Brothers' Blood
by princ3ssf33t
Summary: He could see that something was wrong. Something had been wrong since Damian's death. And what was he going to do about it? Something insane. He was going to raise his brother from the dead.
1. Prologue

_ So I would choose to be with you_  
><em>That's if the choice were mine to make<em>  
><em>But you can make decisions too<em>  
><em>And you can have this heart to break<em>  
><em>And so it goes, and so it goes<em>  
><em>And you're the only one who knows<em>

_~Billy Joel_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Prologue <span>**

The boy stumbled his way up the front walk. A yellowing bandage was wrapped around the crown of his head; only tufts of his dark black hair were exposed to the outside air. One arm wrapped around his middle in attempts to slow the bleeding of the gash in his side. His other hand clutched the staff like a lifesaver. At this point it was the only thing holding him up.

He wobbled up to the front steps. He took a couple of shaky deep breaths before beginning his ascent.

It was only five steps. Five. That was the same amount of digits one had on a single hand. And by the time he was to the third stair, he was out of breath. At the fourth he was nauseous and dizzy. He collapsed upon the fifth stair and lay bleeding on the ground.

He was failing. He had failed. His eyes closed in resignation at the fact. But he couldn't give up. No, he promised he would make it back home and be safe. And he was going to fulfill his promise if it killed him.

Using the last of his strength, he used the staff in his hand and pressed it against the doorbell. He heard the echoing chime in the halls inside.

He rested his head against the step, ready to accept the inevitable.

The door opened and a dark-haired figure poked his head out. He looked around, but didn't see anyone on the stoop. He began to retreat back into the house.

"Di-ick," he croaked.

Bright blue eyes shot downward to the stairs, and the blue eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"Little D?"

Disbelief laced every inch of his voice. That was a voice he had never expected to hear again. He stared for a few seconds before rushing his younger brother and gathering him into his arms, mindful of the injuries on his person and ignoring the blood getting on his clothing. He turned and began running into the manor screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Bruce! Alfred! I need medical attention, STAT!"

The last thing before his vision completely faded to black was a familiar clock sliding open and the musky smell enter his nose.

* * *

><p>"How can we be sure that it's him?" A snide voice asked. Jason Todd.<p>

"DNA says it's him," another answered gently. Grayson.

"DNA can be cloned. Didn't you say that he said your first name? The Demon we knew would never address you, or us, as such," Todd retorted.

"Why don't you just ask him? He's awake now," A new voice said. Father.

He opened his eyes. Or as much as he could, one eye was swollen almost shut.

Damian's heart made a small leap in his chest. They were here for him.

"Fa-" his voice cracked. Dick immediately was at his side offering a glass of water with a straw. Damian took a few hesitant sips. He swallowed and looked to his father again.

"Father, what happened?"

"You suffered a concussion, a stab wound to your left side, narrowly missing your left lung, your knee was fractured and you lost a great deal of blood. You're lucky to even be alive."

To think he wasn't a few weeks ago.

There was silence after Bruce finished speaking. Bruce and Dick were looking at Damian and Jason was staring at his feet, arms crossed. Alfred walked into the room and cleared his throat.

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce asked.

"That was the third time I have tried to contact Master Timothy within the past few hours, Master Bruce. There is still no answer on the other end."

A worried look crossed Dick's face. Timmy was never not near his phone. And even if he did miss a call, he was quick to call back.

Bruce allowed one eyebrow to rise. That was unlike his second youngest son.

Even Jason with his ever present scowl allowed for a moment of concern.

Damian's eyes filled with tears despite himself. Tears were still a sign of weakness, and Damian was not weak.

"Little D? What's wrong? Does this have anything to do with Tim?"

Damian looked away from his older brother. He couldn't tell. He failed. They would never accept him now.

"Damian?" Bruce pressed. "What do you know about Tim that you're not telling us?"

Damian looked to the other men in the room. Each had a concerned look on his face. A twinge of sadness washed over him.

"He's dead," he croaked out. He closed his eyes and a few tears escaped from his swollen eye.

"I killed him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And this is what happens when I read back my old comics with Damian and listen to Billy Joel at the same time. And I realize that the song may not mesh perfectly with what I'm writing, but jeez, it's enough to get pulling on your heart strings. **

**Also, I should mention, that this story could be the Reboot universe with origins, timeline, and characters from pre-reboot, OR it's pre-reboot already with a few elements of the reboot thrown in. Either way, it's au. **

**As always, review. :D**


	2. Chapter 1

_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend_  
><em>Somewhere along in the bitterness<em>  
><em>And I would have stayed up with you all night<em>  
><em>Had I known how to save a life<em>  
><em>How to save a life<em>

_~The Fray_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter One<span>**

**Weeks Earlier**

There was no one really at the funeral. There shouldn't have been anyway. Robin was the one who died, not Damian Wayne. Even if they had mentioned that Damian was dead, it would raise some suspicions. Instead they came up with the cover story he was out of the country learning abroad.

The few that were there were the ones that knew him best. Or thought they did. The kid was a mystery, wrapped in a riddle, covered with snarky arrogance. But now that was gone.

Tim stood above the coffin out in the rain. The rest of his rag-tag family had gone inside after they had thrown their handfuls of dirt onto the hole in the ground. Tim's handful was still clenched in his fist. This wasn't the way that he wanted, or expected this to end. He always expected him to go in a way where he was far outmatched in an effort to prove himself worthy, and the best of, the rest of them. No one expected that he would be done in by a clone of himself.

The rain soaked him to the bone and his long hair dripped water into his eyes. Vaguely he heard a voice in his head telling him to get his hair cut. Whether it was Dick's voice or Damian's, it didn't matter to him. Although if it was Dick's voice, he shouldn't he talking, he went through that whole mullet phase. A shiver ran down Tim's spine, whether from the memory or the wind in the rain, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the brat, his brother, was gone.

He fell to his knees, hand still clutching that fistful of dirt. It couldn't end this way. He should have done something more. Tried to make peace with him. Anything. Anything was better than what he did. Which was nothing.

He wasn't sure how long he was kneeling in the sopping grass before someone came and helped him up and into the house. He never looked at the face of the person that was leading him into the manor. But he could tell by the way that they draped a rain jacket upon his shoulders and held him close that it was Stephanie.

He didn't understand why she was doing this. Their relationship had ended a while ago. And while he still harbored feelings for her, they were locked away and buried deep down. Those feelings caused pain, for him, for her. So it was best they locked themselves away.

"You'll catch cold if you stay out here any longer," she said gently.

Tim didn't respond.

He allowed himself to be taken into his room where a towel and fresh clothes were waiting, courtesy of Alfred. Stephanie gave a slight rub on his back before leaving him to change out of his soaking clothing.

Slowly he peeled off the layers of his wet suit. He never really liked that suit anyways. He replaced his boxers but stood staring down at the rest of his clothes. Thankfully it wasn't another suit. It was a red t-shirt and a pair of his favorite pair of jeans. Damian had once made fun of them because of the fraying on the bottom and the red paint that had been spilt on them when he was repainting his room.

That brought up new emotions and tears began to fall again. Why couldn't he have stopped him from becoming Robin? Why did he have to fail him as well? It seemed like he had failed everyone. He had failed his father, he had failed Stephanie multiple times, he had failed his team, and he had failed Damian.

He curled in on himself and cried. That was how they found him an hour later, only in his boxers, head in his hands, still clutching that handful of dirt.

* * *

><p>Bruce wasn't taking this well. He'd lost a son before with Jason. He thought he could understand what this time would be like, but he was wrong. Every little thing would remind him of Damian. The way that the sun had shown in his window in the morning waking him up causing him to pull the covers over his face. Down to the click-clack of Titus' nails as he searched the house for his master.<p>

And now, everyone was in his living room, feeling the loss that he was. But it wasn't. They weren't related by blood in any way. Damian was his flesh. He had once imagined a future where he could see grandchildren running around. Not that any children that came from Dick, Jason, Tim or Cass wouldn't be his grandchildren as well. But there was something enticing in the way his imaginations played out. Not that Damian would ever be one to actually settle down and start a family. He was far too much like his father.

A short chuckle came out of Bruce's throat. He never intended on a family, and yet here they were. All in the same house without trying to strangle each other. Possibly a first for this family. But he was deeply grieved at the circumstances.

Taking a deep breath he walked out of the bathroom and into the living room where everyone else was. His eyes wandered to each member of his family.

Alfred was cleaning compulsively the mantle that didn't need any cleaning. He would never allow any type of spot to exist while he was alive and well. It was very much similar to when Jason was taken from them.

Speaking of the prodigal son, Jason was standing in the window bay staring out at the rain. His eyes were hard, yet glassed over. Bruce guessed that he was thinking about his own death. Absent-mindedly he played with one of his knives that he carried with him.

Dick was sitting on the sofa next to Barbara. He had been closest to Damian, possibly. He took Damian's death especially hard. Barbara had pulled his head into her lap and was stroking back his dark black hair in attempts to comfort him. The other's had tried, but Barbara's touch was the only one that he had responded to. His eyes were bloodshot and sniffles escaped him every now and then. Barbara tried to maintain her strong exterior, but Bruce knew that the moment she was alone, her barriers would break down and all the emotion she held inside would escape.

Stephanie didn't have any of those barriers and was unashamed of showing her emotion for all to see. She seemed to have been crying all day. Despite the insults that Damian had thrown at her she was genuinely felt the pain at his death. But as the day wore on, she gathered herself into a functional, if not complete individual again. She sat next to Cass on the sofa, holding a mug of hot chocolate that had long since cooled.

Cass was harder to read. She had spent most of her time away from the Manor doing work anonymously, limiting the interaction that she had had with her brother. She hadn't shed a tear, but there were other ways for her to show her grief. She just wouldn't share with them.

Finally Bruce looked at his younger son. Tim's reaction came out of left field. Bruce was sure that his two youngest hated each other for everything that they were worth. Damian hated the fact that Tim was included into the family despite being an imposter for the Wayne line. And Tim was wary of the boy for his background and his skills, along with the attitude. But the way that the boy broke down for his brother gave more depth into their relationship, than any of the petty fights they endured with each other.

Bruce stared at his family. How dare Talia do this to him? To them? How dare she take away her only son from his family? Rage surged through his veins. If he ever got hands on that woman, she would be very sorry that she ever tangled with his family.

The clock chimed seven in the evening. Usually, everyone would get up to suit up for patrol, but there was an unspoken agreement that there would be no patrol that night. They needed the time to mourn.

But that wasn't what Bruce needed. He needed someone to be on the other end of his swinging fist. Abruptly, he stood and walked out of the room and down to where his suit was. There was only one way for him to relieve himself now. Damn all consequences.

He pitied those who decided to tousle with him tonight.

* * *

><p>A plan was formulating in his brain before he even realized that he could concoct such a thing. He found himself thinking about how things would happen if he would do something about it. What could he have done? Nothing. But what can he do now? That was the question that was at the forefront of his brain at nearly every waking moment of the day. Which was more than he would like to admit.<p>

He would deny it if asked, but his insomnia had returned. Nothing that would have helped in the past did anything anymore. So he spent that time when he should have been sleeping watching. He watched as Cass left Gotham again, needing the space from the place. He watched as his brother Jason withdrew even further from the family. He no longer killed the criminals he caught, but he was not above brutal means of achieving what he wanted. He saw as grief drove Barbara and Dick even closer. They were the life rafts that kept the other afloat.

And his heart broke when he ran into Stephanie. Her wise-cracking had ceased almost completely. The radiant smiles that he loved were now rare and far between each other. He couldn't bear to see that amount of pain on her face. It was the same look that she would have when she was younger and thought about her daughter she gave up for adoption.

But as he watched them, he saw them progress and grow. Not wanting to waste time, Dick had asked Barbara to marry him for the second time. He didn't want anything to happen to either of them without having her know how he felt. She accepted.

Jason became more accepted within the family in and out of uniform. The shaky alliance in costume with the Commissioner was only accepted on the terms of some type of therapy and supervision.

But one person wasn't growing past in a healthy way, was the one that he was most worried about. Bruce was falling back into the habit that he had when Jason had died. At first he didn't think much of the broken limbs of the criminals that were turned in. But then Bruce came back home with a stab wound to his abdomen and nearly passed out from blood loss before he even made it into the cave.

That was when Tim knew that something needed to be done.

"Bruce, I think that you and I need to talk about your behavior of late. You're acting reckless-" Tim began.

Bruce slammed his bedroom door behind him, cutting off Tim and Alfred who had been following to be sure that Bruce made it to the bedroom alright. Tim's resolve hardened and he knew that something needed to be done before Bruce did something that would seriously hurt, or kill him. Tim stalked to his room to put in motion his plan.

He waited until the house was empty before bringing everything to action. He couldn't afford for his plans to be disturbed. They would stop him.

While in his room he packed. Every once and a while he would find himself staring at the plastic bag that held the dirt that was supposed to go into the grave. He couldn't bear to let it go. After he threw a few clothes in a rucksack, he gingerly placed that plastic bag in a leather pouch, before putting that in the satchel and throwing it over his shoulders.

As he sneaked out of his room and out of the house, he prayed that this wasn't a half-thought out idea that came from his insomnia. He also prayed that no one would come by unexpectedly and question what he was doing.

He had already hidden the backhoe and the crowbar behind the bushes in the forest. He got in one of the inconspicuous cars and drove down to the plot, ready for everything to begin.

He worked as quickly as he possibly could. There was no grass yet over the dirt, and digging was quickly moved aside. Once he was down far enough, he crawled into the hole and pried open the casket. A small voice in his brain yelled at him to stop and allow Damian to rest in peace and that this was a crazy idea that would never work.

He ignored it.

Tim pried the casket open and looked at the boy inside. He was only eleven. Tim wiped sweat and tears from his face. He closed his eyes, giving a silent prayer to whoever may be out there, before pulling the body out of the casket and throwing the boy over his shoulder. He grunted under the weight.

"I didn't think that you would be so heavy," he muttered.

He carried his brother's corpse to the car he had waiting. He covered him with a blanket in such a way that if anyone looked inside, they would think that he would simply be sleeping. Then he got in and drove to the main house. Tim stopped the car, and cast a look to his brother before running into the house for one last time, leaving a letter on the kitchen island, where he was sure they would find it.

Giving one last look at the Manor he drove off the estate and towards a private flight he arranged to be waiting for him at the airport.

* * *

><p><em>Hi Bruce, <em>

_I realize in all likelihood that it won't be you who is going to read this first, but I can't allow you to go down this path. I first came to you after the death of Jason, your son, my brother, a few years ago. You were in a bad place and I wanted to help you out of it. In the process I managed to become a part of your family, and I am thankful for every minute of it. But you're sliding back into that place again. I've tried to talk to you about it, but every attempt on my behalf has failed. So in a drastic attempt to bring you back from going over that edge again, I'm leaving. You may have figured out what I'm planning to do. But know this. You can't stop me. So don't try. There is a likelihood that this will fail. But if I succeed, well, how about we leave what happens next to when I get back. _

_As always, your son,_

_Tim_

* * *

><p>Bruce dropped the paper and immediately looked with horror at the butler who'd handed him the paper. Alfred had read only the first few sentences, but the way that the letter was set up, nothing could come from it that was good. It was the setup for a goodbye letter.<p>

Bruce ran out of the house and down to the small graveyard on his property. His heart nearly stopped when he saw that small backhoe and the pile of dirt next to it. He leapt into the hole and nearly threw up when he saw the empty casket.

"No, no, no, goddammit."

By the time Alfred had walked down to where Bruce was he was finishing his call with his second oldest son.

"NO. I don't care what you are doing right now. We have an emergency, priority alpha." He paused listening. "Jason, if your ass isn't over here in the next ten minutes, there will be no time for you to even think about doing that."

He hung up the phone and stared at his son's casket for only a moment more before stalking back to the house. Alfred followed behind, keeping in step.

"If you don't mind me asking sir, what does young Master Tim have planned with Master Damian's body?"

Bruce didn't answer his butler. He only grit his teeth a bit more. He understood that recently he'd been slipping back into a reckless man with a vengeance that no longer cared. He thought that he didn't really care anymore. His son was dead. But upon reading Tim's letter, he realized that there was more that he had to live for. He had Tim, and Dick, and Jason. And if he was right, he may lose another one.

He stood on the front porch arms crossed waiting for his other sons. When he saw the motorcycle and the car indicating his sons' arrival, he walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Bruce, what's the big deal that you needed to see us immediately? Barbara wasn't too happy I left in the middle of preparing dinner," Dick said jogging in behind Bruce. Jason was quick to follow.

"Yeah, what's the big idea? I only get so much time to just relax."

Bruce pointed at the letter. Dick picked it up and upon recognizing his younger brother's handwriting read it thoroughly. Jason peered over his older brother's shoulder to read. Once done a slightly confused look was upon Dick's face. Jason's face had paled the further he read.

"What is he planning to do B?" Dick asked. He looked back at his younger, but taller, brother. "Jay? What is Timmy doing?"

"The Lazarus Pits. Tim is going to put Damian into the Lazarus Pits," Bruce said.

The letter fell to the floor for the third time that night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And the plot begins moving along. As always, review. **


	3. Chapter 2

_ It's only lies that I'm living_

_ It's only tears that I'm crying_

_ It's only you that I'm losing_

_ Guess I'm doing fine _

_~Beck_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Two<span>**

Trying to pass off a corpse as a sleeping child wasn't as hard as Tim had expected. Rest Damian's head on his shoulder and cover the rest of the body with a blanket. He wondered how often Dick or Bruce had to carry Damian to his room after a long patrol because he fell asleep. Tim remembered when he would fall asleep at the Bat-computer and Alfred would cover him in a blanket.

Setting Damian down and making sure that the blanket covered most of his body. Tim closed the door to the outside of the plane and walked to the cockpit. He strapped himself in and began the checks to fly. If anyone questioned why the seventeen year-old was flying a private jet, nothing was said. Had anything been said, Tim would have taken off anyway. He didn't have the time to afford delays.

It was imperative that Tim get Damian into those pits as quickly as he possibly could.

He lifted the throttle and the plane began to move forward. Once he got up to speed, the tires left the ground and he was in the air. He climbed higher in the air until he got to cruising altitude. Tim set the plane to autopilot and turned to his younger brother's body.

He opened his mouth to talk to him, but shut it again. He should save the explanation for when Damian was back and hating him with every fiber in his being. But Tim's explanations would probably receive the same amount of listening from Damian after he gets him back as he would get at this moment. So he turned back to flying the plane.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

* * *

><p>Jason followed behind a pissed Bruce and a worried Dick. Alfred was behind him, and Jason was sure that he was worried but being the English gentleman that he was, didn't allow it to be shown on his face.<p>

"But my question is why would Tim go to the Lazarus Pits with Damian? I know that he was more distraught at Damian's death than we thought he would have, but does really mean that he would risk his life to sneak into Talia's ranks to resurrect him?" Dick asked stopping behind Bruce as he sat in the chair in front of the Batcomputer.

Jason gripped the letter tightly in his hand. If he had realized what the kid was planning, then he would have stopped him, Tim didn't understand what he was doing. He'd experienced the pit first hand. That pit does things to the victim's brain. Jason himself came out half mad, and it was months before he managed to string together a thought that wasn't basic survival instincts. Jason rubbed the white streak of hair on his forehead. A constant reminder of the madness he was subjected to.

When, or if, that kid ever came back, he was sure to congratulate him on his guts, or he was going to strangle him for his stupidity. Or both.

_Goddammit, Replacement. I thought you were supposed to be the fucking smart one. Didn't you realize that this is going to lead you to your death?_ Jason thought to himself.

"He was watching. Like he always does," Bruce said. Jason looked at him.

"Watching? What does that mean?" Jason asked. His eyes narrowed at the look that was shared between the other three members of the family. He was missing a part of the story and he felt that it was a key in figuring out why his replacement went to his doom.

Dick looked to his father figure before turning to his younger brother. He took a deep breath.

"Do you know how Tim came to be a Robin?"

Jason stayed silent. His brain was still a bit addled when he first encountered Tim, and all that could get across into his brain was that he was replaced. He never tried to understand why really.

"It was after your death, when he first came to us."

_Well, no shit. _

"And- don't give me that look- he had noticed that Bruce was in a bad place. He was behaving reckless and seemed to forgo all caution when it came to getting his man. It was so bad that even the papers seemed to see that something was greatly upsetting him. And Tim, wanting Bruce to remember just who Batman was supposed to be, came to me while I was at Haly's circus with images of Bruce, Batman after one of his most recent fights."

_Whoa, Replacement. Who would've thought that you were a damn stalker?_

"He wanted me to be Robin again, and I couldn't go back to that. So in desperation, he dressed as Robin and followed me. Two-Face was loose and Bruce and I fell into the trap. Tim saved us. It took a while for Bruce to come to terms with having a new Robin, but eventually Tim proved that it was just what Bruce needed."

Jason stayed silent after the story was finished. He'd ever given much thought to just how his replacement was initiated. He never even bothered to find out. He was all too focused on the fact that there was a new Robin and that the Joker was still alive to think about what were insignificant details at the time.

"But that doesn't tell us just why he would something as so damned stupid as going into the middle of the al Ghul stronghold to resurrect the boy that they now considered an enemy? I mean, what the hell?" Jason folded his arms.

"Tim has always wanted the best for us. That is why he came after you died. Back then, he offered to help heal the void you left. And now, he's too close to the heartbreak," Bruce explained, while tapping keys on the keyboard.

"Sir, if he's too close, his judgment may be impaired. We may be able to bring him back around to see that he doesn't need to risk his life," Alfred put in stepping out from the shadows.

"If we could get him to see that this time isn't the same, and that Bruce doesn't need such drastic measures," Dick added.

"But it's not." Bruce said deadpanned.

Jason looked to his adopted father. An eyebrow raised itself. Everyone waited for Bruce to continue.

"Tim was right. I'm behaving the same. I thought that since I had made it through your death Jason that I was capable of going through this without any effects. I was wrong. I forgot that I have you boys now. I didn't see what was right in front of me. Stupid!" Bruce's fist slammed down into the keyboard. It didn't break, but there was a large dent. "Stupid and Careless! Now, because of that, I may lose my second youngest son."

There was silence in the Cave. It even seemed as the bats that hung above them knew what had just happened and were silent as well. Jason's scowl looked at Dick and Alfred. Bruce's back was still to them.

"So, what do we do to get them back?"

* * *

><p><em>"This is Control. Your craft is cleared for decent."<em>

"Roger," Tim answered. He turned back to look at his only passenger. "Hope you're ready for this, Damian."

Slowly he brought the plane down from its cruising altitude and the plane bounced a little as the tires touched down on the asphalt. Tim slowed the plane until it was almost to a stop. He followed the directions provided by the traffic controllers. He gathered his small knapsack as soon as the jet was parked in the garage. He heard the door to the cabin open as an attendant came in.

The moment he made eye contact with the man he held a finger to his lips. The other man only smiled.

"When did he fall asleep?" He asked.

"Little guy fell asleep just as we were beginning our descent. About time anyway. He kept bothering me. Do you know how hard it is to fly a jet when your little brother demands your attention?" Tim responded picking up Damian, making sure that the blanket was still covering most of his body.

It felt strange that Damian wasn't breathing against him.

The man only chuckled. He shook his head. He had no other siblings. Nor did he know how to pilot an aircraft.

"Well, have a good night," Tim said walking past the man out into the Arabian night air. He walked towards the car he chartered. Tim placed his brother's body in the car, being mindful of the boy's head and the doorframe. He re-tucked the blanket around the boy before he got into the driver's side and drove away.

The man stopped his cleaning and watched the dark car until it was out of sight. He pulled out a cell phone from his back pocket and speed dialed a number required to be learned by heart.

"Hello? Yeah, you were right. They are bringing the kid. Get ready. But you'll never guess who the one to bring him was."

* * *

><p>"So why can't we just go and get him?" Dick was pacing. After a quick call to Barbara explaining just what was going on, he spent the rest of the evening down in the cave simply pacing, wondering why his brother would risk his life for something that might kill him.<p>

"Master Dick, I'm sure that it's not quite as simple as going and retrieving the young Master Tim," Alfred said wisely.

"Alfred's right Dick, Ra's had located multiple Lazarus pits around the world. Tim could be heading to any one of them," Bruce reasoned, not looking from the computer he was so rapidly typing away at.

"No he wouldn't. He would go to the heart of it all. He knows that that was where I was, er, dumped, so he knows that it works. Besides, I may have destroyed some of the other ones while I was a bit whacked," Jason added.

Dick rubbed his hands on his face. He didn't look up when his mouth opened to speak.

"Let me see if I've got everything that you've been saying. Tim dug up Damian and is planning on dunking him in the Lazarus Pit to restore Damian's life, all to make Bruce realize that he's going down a path that could lead to self-destruction, but in doing so he has to go into the heart of Talia's empire, in which there is a high probability that he's going to get himself killed because they aren't just going to let him waltz in to use their pits. Is that correct?"

"Yep."

"Brilliant. So how do we get him back?" Great. Back to square one. Again.

There was silence as everyone thought about it.

"We don't."

"But Bruce, there has to be a way to get Timmy back to us. Can't we send in Cass or someone from the league? They would gladly help us." Dick was close to pleading now, but it was his little brother on the line. He couldn't go through a third loss.

Jason snorted. "Send in the League or Cass? Are you sure you even have a brain in there Golden Boy?"

"What? Why wouldn't that be a viable option?" Dick asked stopping his pacing and stared at his younger brother.

"Think for a moment Dick. None of the others in the League know their way around that compound the way that we do, nor do they know what they would be getting themselves into. They would make more of a mess than they would do any help. And I understand they would want to help, but that could give more players in the game to map out. And think for a moment about your sister. Think of her background, of the reason's that she was born for. There would be no hesitation on her part to get Tim out of there, but at what cost?"

Dick paused, Bruce was right. What would the cost be to go in and save Tim? He ran through the scenarios in his head. None of them ended in any way that would please anyone. Most of them ended in his brother obtaining serious injury, or dead.

Dick sat on the ground and looked up at his family. Jason was leaning against the rail with his arms crossed, hands gripping tightly to the sleeves of his leather jacket. Bruce had spun around to make eye contact with his sons and father-figure. One hand rested still on the keyboard. Alfred approached and rested a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"So now we just wait?"

Jason kicked a rock across the floor. "Now we fucking wait."

* * *

><p>The drive through the desert went along much slower than Tim remembered. But then again the last time he was coming here, he wasn't planning on dumping his brother's dead body in a pit to bring him back to life.<p>

Not for the first time that day, Tim wondered what he was doing. And above all, he wondered why he kept thinking of the little demon was his brother. They shared no blood, and were not related in any way, save for the fact that Bruce had adopted Tim and was Damian's biological father. But there was something about the kid that Tim had grown to appreciate, even if he didn't quite trust him. The kid was passionate.

It was something that everyone in the family had.

Finally, finally, he came to the spot where he would hide his vehicle. He pulled in and shut off the vehicle. Tin walked to the other side of the vehicle and pulled out Damian. He rested him on the blanket down on the ground.

Popping open the trunk he pulled out the tarp he had stashed. He threw it over the vehicle, securing it down with rocks. Now came the tricky bit. How to get inside the compound without attracting attention.

Tim supposed he dress as a part of their assassins, but that would require the effort to match their uniforms exactly. That would take time, and time was the one thing that he didn't have.

_Stealthy ninja it is then_, He thought to himself.

Then comes the other park of the problem. How to get Damian inside the compound. The boy wasn't just going to walk in there all by himself. Tim would have to bring him in, but that wasn't going to be easy. Damian had grown taller in the years that Tim had known him, and was nearing Tim's height. To carry someone that was near your height wasn't the easiest thing in the world. Besides, he needed his hands free in case there was a fight.

Not that he was looking for a fight.

He would rather get in, get the job done, and get back home. But he needed to be prepared for any contingency.

He pulled out his grappling hook and cut the rope from the hook. Bruce would kill him if he knew that Tim was deliberately destroying his equipment. Tim brushed that thought aside. If he thought too much on things other than his task at hand, he may turn back.

Quickly he cut and stripped the line and made a type of sling out of it. Looking it over, he wished he had time to refine it, but it would have to do for the moment. He was only going to need it for the way in. Because on the way out Damian better be able to walk on his feet again. Or he would be dead and there wouldn't need to have to worry about coming out again.

He shook his head. He couldn't think like that.

Finally somewhat satisfied with his handiwork, he slipped Damian's arms and legs into the device. Then he slipped it onto his own shoulders. Damian's cold cheek rested on the back of his neck, chilling him through his hair. One leg of Damian's rested on either side of his hips, and was glad that Damian was dead at this moment. Because Damian would die of embarrassment, or he would slit Tim's throat.

Whichever one would be most accessible for him.

Tim adjusted the dead weight and began his hike towards the secret entrance into the compound. He parked a few miles away; it was too risky to park right at the edge of their compound. But as he started he realized that he should have thought about the desert heat and carrying a dead body before he began.

It was too late to go back now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize if anyone was out of character in this scene. I've never written from Jason's POV before, so I'm hoping that it's all right. So, like always, leave a comment. I really need to come up with a better way to say that. **


	4. Chapter 3

_Hey young blood  
>Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?<br>I'm gonna change you like a remix  
>Then I'll raise you like a phoenix<em>

_~Fall Out Boy_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Three<span>**

_"But you'll never guess who the one to bring him was." _

There was a pause on the other end of the line. The woman holding the phone pursed her lips and her fingers tapped against the wood grain of her chair. She was not a terribly patient woman when it came to things that she didn't know.

"Spit it out. I haven't got all day. There is much for me to do."

_"The third one. Black? Blake?"_

"Drake."

_"Yeah, that's the one. He's on his way with the boy's body. I would get everyone ready."_

She snapped her phone shut ending the call. Her men were used to the abrupt endings to most of the conversations that they would have with her.

This presented her with a problem. The others she could deal with. The circus boy was a nuisance, but dealing with him would not be an issue. He was a good soldier, but more often than not, he allowed emotions to cloud his judgment. Todd was similar in the same way. Only he was more apt to go for an outcome that would benefit him more than others. Her Beloved she knew how to get him to do what she wanted. He may protest and attempt to do his own will, but in the end, she would always get what she wants.

But Drake. He was a different breed. He had the intelligence of her own Beloved, but possessed the heart of the circus boy, and every bit as willing to do what it would take to protect those he loved. He had even earned her father's respect and the title of Detective, a title previously held by her Beloved.

But why would he be the one to bring back her son?

From what she knew about his relationship with her son, Drake had hated Damian. Damian hadn't like the older boy either, and he made no qualms about keeping it hidden. He'd even tried to kill his adopted brother.

So why would Drake be the one to bring back Damian?

"Leave me," Talia said waving away her guards.

"Yes, Princess." Obediently they backed away out of her sight. She knew that they weren't far into the shadows. Orders from her father, she figured.

She stood from the chair she had been reclining on and began to walk about her room with her hands clasped behind her back. She tossed her head aside, removing her hair from in front of her face. Her hard face became harder as she thought about what to do.

Talia chewed over the two options that presented themselves to her. Both plans needed to be carried out perfectly in order to prevent any unnecessary, damages.

She stared at the trunk that contained all of the mementos of a dream long forgotten. Her decision was made clear. She snapped her fingers to summon one of her guards.

"Yes?" He asked obediently.

"Post extra guards around the Pit. No one goes in without my authority first. Extra patrols around the perimeter until further notice. Understand?" Talia said not looking behind her at the assassin.

"Yes." He turned to leave.

"And one more thing. My father is to have no word of this. Is that clear?" Her voice dripped with venom.

"Yes, Princess."

He left the room and Talia looked towards the setting sun, thinking about things had they gone the way that she had planned.

* * *

><p>The hike to the secret entrance took a few more hours than he thought that it would actually take. He thought that he would be able to get to the entrance before sundown and her he was, finally getting to the doorway to the future and the moon was lighting up the desert. But he made it.<p>

It took all of his strength to move aside the large bolder that sat in front of the hole leading down to the pit. He wasn't as strong as Bruce or Jason, or even Nightwing, his physical form prevented that, but he was going to do this. And he did. It may have taken him a little longer than he would have liked with Damian strapped to his back, but he made due.

Tim took a small sip of water. He needed to save most of it for Damian. Not that he had personal experience, but he assumed that when Damian came out he would want to have something to drink.

He ducked under into the tunnel, being careful of Damian's head. Although he didn't understand just why he was being so careful. He was just going to dump Damian in a pit that would restore him to his body and heal all of the injuries that he might receive. And yet he was careful. Respect for the dead, he assumed.

Tim crept down the tunnel, listening to the water drip on the puddle on the floor. He crouched, being a little taller than what the tunnel actually allowed for. But in crouching he was dragging the tops of Damian's red converse against the rock floor. Tim allowed a half wince. Damian took pride in his shoes and would kill anyone who damaged his stuff. He could just feel the fifty dollars to buy him new ones leave his pocket already.

He continued his trek. He didn't know just how long he had been walking. His muscles were beginning to ache from carrying Damian and crouching for the extended period of time. He stopped suddenly when heard the whispered murmurings of people. It took him a moment to realize that they were speaking in Arabic. Even though his Arabic was a bit rusty, he managed to understand the last half of the sentence.

"-why we're here."

There was a noise, maybe a snort, but the talking ended after that. The men that were there knew better than to try and follow their own thoughts. That was treason and traitors were killed.

He pulled out a few of the darts that were laced with an anesthetic that would knock them out for a few hours. But that was much longer than he needed. From what he'd gathered from Jason and from others when he thought he would bring back his loved ones, the process would only take a few minutes. If that.

Tim was tempted to take Damian off of his back and come back for him after he'd dealt with the guards, but he didn't want to leave an opportunity for Damian's body to be stolen away.

So he crept forward. He pulled the dart gun from one of his pockets and readied to fire the first dart. Tim knew that he would have to work quickly once he blew the first dart to get the other assassins. He peeked over a rock and took a survey of those that were there.

Ten. He took out a few more of the darts and rolled them in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he blew the first dart.

The assassin fell to the ground with a small thump. Quickly Tim reloaded his dart gun, aimed, and shot another. He too went down. And it didn't matter how fast he knocked out the assassins, it wasn't fast enough.

One of the guards turned around and looked to see six of his comrades on the ground with bat-darts sticking out of their exposed skin. As he was opening his mouth a dart was sticking out of his neck. He collapsed, his sword clanging against the rock around him. Another spun at the noise semi-automatic ready to fire.

"Damn!" He shouted, gun aiming at the walls without any direction. A dart hit him in the shoulder and as he fell, his finger pulled the trigger, firing a few shouts up into the roof.

"We're under attack! Inform the Princess!" One of them shouted.

Tim darted the one that was speaking and watched as one of their number escape out into the main part of the compound.

"Dammit," Tim muttered. His timeline got much more compact.

He hopped down from the perch where he was standing and went to the Pit avoiding the unconscious assassins on the ground. He withdrew one of Batarangs and cut the rope holding up the makeshift harness, unceremoniously dropping Damian to the ground. He reached down, hastily removed the line and picked up Damian's body.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered before tossing his little brother into the glowing waters of the Lazarus pit.

* * *

><p>The assassin ran as quickly as he could through the twisting turns and tunnels as he tried to get the main hall. He didn't think about using the intercom system to alert the rest to the intruder's presence. Adrenaline was running through his system as he finally crashed through the main hall's doors.<p>

The conversation that was in the room ceased. All eyes turned to see who had entered the room. Their eyes were cold and expectant, wondering who had interrupted their solitude. The princess turned her eyes from the plans she had been reviewing to look at him.

He swallowed. For a moment he forgot just why he ran all the way here. Talia cleared her throat.

"The Pit is under attack," He said finally with no amount of wavering in his voice. "Unknown amount of attackers. I never got a look at them."

"One."

"Pardon?" He asked. His eyes never wavered from staring straight ahead of him.

"A single attacker. One of by Beloved's wards, there to resurrect my son. Take a legion and apprehend him. He must not be allowed to place my son in the Pit." She turned back to the plans that she had been reviewing.

The assassin stood there for a little bit longer.

"What are you waiting for? Go."

He gave a little jump and quickly turned to find a legion that would break from their training or patrol that would take on the single intruder. But as he ran through the tunnels to where there would be such a platoon, he wondered.

_What kind of a kid has the ability to take down nearly a dozen of the best trained assassins without revealing himself? And would one more group of assassins be enough to stop him?_

* * *

><p>His heart was beating loudly. He was sure that those on the other side of the door could hear every best of his heart. He always hated these types of house calls. Not that he had to do many of them, considering that everyone that would be interested practically lived all in one place.<p>

He was doing this against possibly his better judgment. He was certainly doing this against Bruce's wishes. Bruce didn't want to involved any more people than were already involved. Himself, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and Barbara. But Dick knew that one more person that needed to be told.

Dick raised his hand to knock on the apartment door. He faltered and his hand lowered. Another hand gripped his reassuringly. He looked down to see his red-headed fiancée giving an understanding smile. She reached out and knocked on the door. Barbara squeezed his hand as the door opened.

A bathrobe and towel wearing Stephanie Brown opened the door.

"Oh, hey guys. What's up?" She said with a smile. She wiped a stray blonde hair from her face.

Dick tried to give a smile, but his heart weighed too heavy for him to keep it up on his face for longer than a fleeting second. Stephanie took notice.

"What's wrong?" She asked her bright blue eyes shifting back and forth from the two people at her door.

"Perhaps it would be best if we brought this conversation indoors. We probably won't want wandering ears to overhear private information," Barbara said.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, c'mon in. Don't mind the mess, or my wardrobe." She opened the door wider and allowed for Dick and Barbara to enter.

"Don't worry about it, Dick has a habit of not wearing anything around my apartment after he gets out of the shower," Barbara shared, smirk on her face.

Dick choked for a moment under the combined smirks of both heroines. He rested his hand on a chair as he regained his breath. "That only happened once. It just so happened that all of my clothes were in the laundry at the time. And, _you said that you were never going to mention that again_."

"Whoops. But we are here for another reason, not to discuss your wardrobe when you exit the shower."

The somber mood returned with full force. Dick deflated onto the secondhand sofa in the living room. Stephanie sat next to him, careful not to show anyone what they wouldn't want to see.

"What's going on?"

Dick opened his mouth for a moment, but shut it again. He took a deep breath, and with his eyes closed, spewed out his news.

"Tim's gone."

"What? What do you mean Tim's gone? He's not- He can't-"

"We don't know," Barbara inserted.

"What do you mean you don't know? You should know if you're here to tell me that he's gone."

"He's gone into the League of Assassins to use their Lazarus Pit."

Stephanie stood up sharply. She looked rapidly from Barbara to Dick. She began to slowly shake her head at the thought.

"No. No, he wouldn't do that. He knows that that would basically lead to suicide. And he didn't even like Damian. Why would he risk his life for someone that he didn't even like? I thought that he was smarter than that. Oh, God. Timmy." She sank to the floor.

Barbara wheeled over to comfort her protégé. Stephanie clutched tightly to Barbara's waist, tears ghosting down her cheeks.

"How could he do this? I thought that we meant more to him than this." Stephanie sniffled.

"Oh, honey, we do. There is nothing that he wouldn't do to keep us happy and safe. He puts his own health in jeopardy whenever one of us is in any type of trouble. He's that darn workaholic complex, ya'know?"

Dick watched as the two women held each other at the news. A part of him wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut. Putting Steph through all of this pain hurt. But another part of him defended his actions. Steph live in Gotham and would notice the absence of her ex-boyfriend, if not sooner than later. Cass was one thing who often went out of touch, but Steph was in constant contact.

Steph turned her face to look at Dick.

"Are we going to get him back?"

"It's hard to say Steph. It's really hard to say," He responded. It only took him a moment before he joined his fiancée and a close friend on the floor in their embrace. Together they just held each other and waited for a brighter day to come.

* * *

><p>He couldn't breathe. He could feel as his lungs tried to expand, yet no air was entering into them. His heart was beating, yet he knew he was dying, dead. A living corpse. He waited for oblivion to surround him. But each passing moment was added agony. Why wasn't he dying?<p>

His eyes shot open. He expected to see the Heretic standing above him with his own blood dripping down the sword. Instead he saw glowing green water. In shock, he inhaled. He clawed his way out.

His lungs hit oxygen and he began coughing. His ears heard something, but were unable to place it. He clawed at whatever was tightening around his neck. His wild blue eyes searched frantically.

Then he realized that it was him who was screaming.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ta-Da! Guess who's back?! The action should be picking up now. And remember to review. :D**


	5. Chapter 4

_Tears stream down your face_  
><em>I promise you I will learn from my mistakes<em>  
><em>Tears stream down your face<em>  
><em>And I...[...]<em>_And I will try to fix you._

_~Coldplay _

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Four<span>**

Tim watched the pit as it continued to bubble. He wouldn't deny that it felt like his heart was in a vice grip. If this failed, then everything was lost. He wouldn't be able to go back to the Manor. They wouldn't be able to understand just what this was.

His breathing was uneasy as he waited. There was no turning back. Hell, there had been no turning back since he had dug up his brother from his grave.

There it was again. The Demon was not his brother. In no way, shape or form was the Demon his brother. There was no way someone who's tried to kill you multiple times could be a brother. Yes, Jason had tried to kill him previously, but since then, Jason had tried to make it up to Tim. And while it wasn't perfect more than often than not, but he was trying.

It was more than the Demon ever did.

But in all honesty, a part of it was Tim's fault. He didn't give Damian that opportunity to accept him as a part of the family. Tim swore he would do better this time around.

And so he was waiting.

He wasn't waiting long. Moments after he thrown Damian into the pit, there were more bubbles floating to the surface. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but something was definitely happening. He just hoped that it was the right thing.

He heard the screaming first. That would be something that would never leave his memories for the rest of his life. He had never heard something so animalistic, so raw, so _pained_ in his life. The waters erupted, throwing glowing waters everywhere throughout the cavern. A dark haired head appeared above the waters.

The child frantically paddled around in the waters, continuing to scream. There was a moment where it appeared he didn't remember how to swim and would drown inside the glowing waters. But within a second, Damian gathered his bearings and paddled towards the shore. He was still yelling.

For a moment Tim allowed himself to feel relief. He did it. He brought Damian back. He hadn't been entirely sure that it would work. Now he needed to get Damian to follow him out of there and get back to Gotham and Bruce.

Damian crawled out of the pit and stared at all of the people that were on the ground unconscious. His screaming had ceased, but he was tense, waiting for an attack of some sort.

Tim waited for a moment before trying to call to him. He needed to be careful about this.

"Damian?" He tried to be as non-threatening as he possibly could. But considering Damian had threatened to break his face when they first met, anything could happen.

Damian turned sharply at the sound of his name. His wild blue eyes jerked around for the source of his name. He stared at Tim for a moment. Tim was shocked at how feral Damian's eyes were. Damian's eyes went down to see the batarangs in Tim' hands. A sound like a growl escaped his throat and he flipped backwards. Away from Tim.

Even though he was trying not to care, Tim still felt a little hurt at the way Damian was attempting to escape him. After the initial flip, Damian scrambled backwards, not wanting to let Tim out of his sight.

Damian's foot caught on a rock and he landed on his butt. It took him no longer than it was to throw a ball, but he was up and running.

Tim realized just where he was running.

"Damian! Stop! That's the wrong way!" He called starting to run after the boy.

"Dammit," Tim grumbled when Damian slipped through the door to the rest of the main compound. He couldn't let Damian be killed again.

Sprinting he ran to catch up with Damian. Damn kid was fast. By the time he caught up with Damian, they were nearly in the main compound. Damian's fleeing back was getting closer when suddenly Damian stopped short in front of him. Tim didn't have to wonder very long why he had stopped so.

That was when the guns started to fire.

Tim took a deep breath and pushed himself harder. As he came near Damian, he grabbed his shoulders and spun around, using his own body as a shield. He felt a burning sensation in his shoulder, but ignored it.

"Run," He shouted at Damian.

Still maintaining his grip on Damian, Tim ran pulling him behind him. Damian surprisingly didn't resist. Tim could hear the assassins still in hot pursuit behind him as he passed the Lazarus Pit. Suddenly Damian's hand wasn't in his anymore.

It seemed as he turned in slow motion. His heart did a flip when he saw Damian on the ground blood coming from his forehead.

"Shit. I know you'll probably kill me for this later, but we need to get out of here," Tim said scrambling to pick up his brother. There was a small groan of protest, but Tim ignored it.

He was too slow. By the time he had Damian in his arms, assassins were beginning to encircle him.

Tim pulled out one of his batarangs and held it out. The other hand clutched Damian closer to his body. He wasn't going to give up his brother.

But he was wondering why he wasn't dead yet. He knew that there would be orders from Talia to stop him at all costs, and that would include shooting him, stabbing him, or other ways of making him dead. His only guess was that they didn't know what to do, considering that Damian was very much breathing and alive in his arms. He edged towards the hole he had come through.

"Freeze!" Someone shouted as they noticed that Tim was moving.

With a small slip of the wrist, Tim let loose a smoke pellet. The area quickly filled with a dark grey smoke. Tim ran into the tunnel, throwing some more batarangs back behind them. There were slight thumps as they made connections to the rocks on the ceiling. Tim waited a few more seconds to get farther down the tunnel before they exploded, blocking anyone from following them from that way.

Tim sighed in relief, but never slowed his run.

* * *

><p>"My apologies, Your Highness, but Drake escaped," said one of the assassins as he bowed on his knees.<p>

Talia gripped her sword tighter. That was not what she wanted to hear.

"And what of the boy?" Talia resumed running through her drills. She ignored the fluttering of her heart at the thought that Drake may have succeeded at resurrecting her son.

"Drake had already thrown him into the Pit. Our apologies," he said.

Talia could feel the conflicting emotions rising within herself. She squashed the happiness quickly with her anger. How could her men have failed her in such a way? These men were the best. They had to be in order to be a part of her father's organization. And yet a child was able to get past her defenses and succeed in his task.

"How did he get in the compound to begin with?" She asked tightly controlling her anger.

"It appears that there was a tunnel of some sort leading right to the Pits. This had to have been the point of entry and escape. They collapsed it as they escaped."

Talia picked up a throwing disk and sank it into the jugular of a mannequin near where the few soldiers in the room were standing. If they were surprised, then they didn't show it.

"Any other information that may have escaped your mind?" She growled.

The assassin that had been speaking fell silent. He didn't want to risk angering her any further. One of the newer recruit's eyes looked back and forth from Talia to the one who had been speaking. He opened his mouth, before shutting it again.

"If you have something to say, then I suggest that you say it," Talia said without looking up from her blades.

"Well, it appears as if the boy didn't recognize Drake and ran from him. Drake eventually caught up with the boy and intervened when we fired at the boy. A bullet managed to find its way into Drake's shoulder."

Something in Talia paused. This might not be as much as a disaster as she thought. An injured protector wouldn't be able to put up as much as a fight as someone who was at full capacity. If they were able to find them before they managed to get back to Gotham and the safety under the bat's wings, she would never get them.

"Find them. Do not let them find their way back to Gotham at any cost. Mr. Drake may have won the battle, but I fully intend to win this war. Dismissed."

The assassins quickly got out of Talia's room.

Talia picked up one of her daggers and tested the tip to be sure that it was sharp enough. A small pinprick of blood appeared. Turning she stared at one of the dummies about the room.

"You will not evade me again, Mr. Drake."

The knife sunk into a dummy right where his heart would be.

* * *

><p>By this time, Tim was gasping for air. He had been running for a few miles now, and normally that wouldn't be any sort of issue. But the adrenaline had worn away much earlier in the night and carrying Damian in his arms was draining. Not to mention that there was a bullet in his shoulder. He needed to stop and rest for the night.<p>

But he couldn't. He needed to at least make it to the car. That was wear he had left the rest of his supplies, clothes, extra water, and the weapons that he couldn't carry when Damian was dead.

Not that it mattered; he still ended up carrying Damian anyway.

When he finally saw the car through the dark, he sighed. Tim was physically exhausted and loosing blood. He needed to medically attend to his shoulder quickly. In all actuality, Tim was surprised that he hadn't already passed out.

Damian's mouth was shut for the entire run. There was a little while where Tim thought that he had actually fallen asleep. Which wouldn't have been good if that cut on his head was a concussion. He hadn't time to check yet, being on the run. But he was pleasantly surprised when he looked down to see that Damian was still awake, but keeping his mouth quiet.

Tim set Damian down at the side of the car and knelt down to look Damian in the eye.

"Damian? I need you to stay by me, you can't go running off. Do you understand?" Tim asked.

"I may have just been raised via Lazarus pit, but I am not mentally challenged, nor am I a child needing simple instructions," was the small response he got.

"Well, it's good to know that the right personality made its way back to the living," Tim grumbled. Why was he doing this again?

He pushed aside those thoughts and pulled out his satchel. He rustled through it for a moment before pulling out a few clothes and medical supplies. Painfully he managed to pull off his own shirt and began to inspect his shoulder. He prodded around for the bullet to see if it was still inside. He was somewhat relieved to see it was a clear through and through. Tim began the process of cleaning and dressing the wound.

Damian kept his mouth shut during the entire process. He only watched as Tim winced a few times as he wrapped his shoulder tightly. Once Tim was finished, he threw a spare shirt on over the top and withdrew a flashlight and antiseptic pads from his bag.

"Damian, I'm gonna clean out your wound now and check for a concussion. Can you follow my finger and answer a couple questions?" Tim asked readying his supplies.

"Tt. Fine."

"What's my name?" Tim asked watching as Damian's eyes followed his finger.

"Drake."

"Where do you live?" Tim's lips pursed at what he was seeing.

"Gotham."

"What do you get when you multiply eight times nine?"

A basic question, really, Damian would normally scoff at such a question, but this time he was a bit slow on the intake. He chewed it over for longer than it should have. He opened his mouth to answer before shutting it again.

"Seventy-two."

"You probably suffered a mild concussion. I'm going to wrap your head to keep the bleeding down. Would you like some water to drink? I don't have much food to eat unfortunately."

Tim began to clean the gash on Damian's forehead, being as thorough without trying to cause him any more pain than necessary. After he cleaned it satisfactory he began to wrap the kid's head. Tim made sure that it was good and tight. He may not have another chance to take the time to rebandage it.

"That should hold until we get back to Gotham and we can get Alfred or Dr. Thompkins to check it out. In the meantime, you should try to get some sleep; I'll get us get as far from here as I can."

Damian crawled into the car and quickly found the blanket. Curling underneath he fell asleep within seconds. Tim allowed himself a small smile. The kid didn't look quite as terrifying little monster when he was asleep.

Fighting the exhaustion that he was feeling, he climbed into the driver's seat and started putting as much distance between them and the League of Assassins as he could.

* * *

><p>Bruce was having a hard time wrapping his head around this whole situation. What would possess his second youngest to go in the middle of hostile territory, just raise his brother whom he didn't even really like and most definitely didn't like him back. And while he knew that in Tim's head, the solution made sense as a way to bring Bruce back from oblivion, was a simple one, why was this the only option that he acted upon?<p>

It had been a couple days since his son left. Or was it more than that? He was beginning to lose track of the time that he cared for. He most definitely wasn't getting the sleep that Alfred and the others in the family were telling him to get. How could he sleep when the threat of losing another son at his expense was looming over him?

He was on his fifth cup of coffee for the day, when the telephone rang. Fumbling for a little bit to pick the phone from its receiver, he finally held it up to his ear.

"Hello?" He asked, not really caring if he came across as ill-tempered.

After affirming that he was indeed Mr. Wayne, he listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line had to say. His hand gripped the phone tighter until the call was ended. Letting out a yell, he threw it across the room.

Footsteps came running from upstairs and down the hall. Soon the kitchen was filled with his butler and his two adopted sons, as they insisted on staying at the manor until the matter was resolved, wondering what had made a noise.

"What did the phone do to you?" Dick asked, picking up the pieces.

"They found one of my private jets in the Middle East. Apparently it's been sitting in the terminal for a bit."

"That's good right? Tim should be that much closer to coming home, right?" Dick asked trying to maintain the optimism that he was known for.

"Someone blew it up. They're just putting out the fire now. All that will be left in a few minutes is an empty husk." Bruce stared down at his hands. They were clenched as fists.

"What does that mean for Tim, and Dami?" Dick asked sitting next to Bruce.

Bruce looked to his eldest with a lost expression on his face. An expression that didn't look right within the hard lines of his face. an expression that really didn't belong on the Batman's face.

"That means that Talia knows what Tim is doing and is going to do anything to stop him. And that Tim doesn't have any means to get back to Gotham even if he managed to get in and out with Damian successfully."

"But Tim's a resourceful kid. He'll manage to find a way back. I know he will," Dick said, masking the worry with an upbeat thought.

Bruce didn't say anything. Neither did Jason or Alfred. There was nothing to say. Either Tim managed to find his way back home with Damian in tow, or they would have to bury another brother.

* * *

><p>Damian was confused. And yet not. He understood just what the hell happened to him. That wasn't difficult to figure out. Drake had dug up his bead body, assumedly without any of the other members of the 'family' knowing, and went over an ocean to dump his stinking corpse into the Lazarus Pit behind his mother's back, all without getting killed. That wasn't the part that he was confused on.<p>

He was confused as to why it was Drake.

Drake had never liked him. Drake had made this painfully clear through the many times that they had fought one another. He even put Damian on his damn hit list. So why would he be the one to bring him back form the dead? Damian thought that Drake would be in some sort of enjoyment at the thought, and take back the Robin mantle.

But yet here Drake was, driving a car after saving his ass from the assassins. That was another thing that puzzled him. Why had he froze? He was Damian Wayne. Trained since birth in the art of taking a man's life, he did not crack under pressure, and yet he froze.

This was why he awoke, but he didn't change his breathing pattern, he didn't want to alert Drake to his alertness. His mind was racing and he was a little chilled. The blanket he was under had slipped off sometime while he was sleeping.

He just couldn't come up with any reason why Drake would bring him back from oblivion. Drake always had a reason, but what could it be this time?

The blanket that had slipped was pulled back up to his chin.

"Go back to sleep Damian," Drake said.

"How-?" Damian began, his eyes popping open.

"I could hear the cogs in your head churning. It would be best if you didn't overwork your brain too much, you'll need it later." Drake gave a small chuckle, but never took his eyes from the road. "Now sleep. I'll wake you when we stop."

Damian was tired. But he didn't want Drake to think that he was obeying his command. He was doing this of his own will.

"Not listenin' to you," he whispered as he fell asleep again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What did you guys think? Leave me reviews, I do enjoy them quite a bit. Maybe next time, I'll be able to say something really clever down here. **


	6. Chapter 5

_Who am I You'd even say my name_  
><em>Within the same the same breath as grace<em>  
><em>You cross every bridge I have burned<em>  
><em>You reach for me when it's undeserved<em>

_~MercyMe_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Five<span>**

Tim needed to be careful. Since their less than graceful exit, he'd been on the lookout for Talia's men since they began running. And he was exhausted. He'd been up for, oh god, he'd lost track of how many hours he'd been up by now. He had either lost or stopped counting when he had reached thirty hours. How long ago had that been?

He really needed to stop and get some sleep. Not that would be any easier now that the sun was up in the sky. A car would look suspicious in the middle of the desert during the day.

Tim came to the conclusion that he would find a motel when they got in the city somewhere and would sleep for a few hours before heading back home. He checked the GPS on his phone to find where the nearest town was. He only had a few more miles to go before they could stop.

Somehow they managed to make it to the town and the motel. There was only one instance where Tim began nodding off and drifted into the other lane. He woke in time by the honking of the oncoming traffic to swerve out danger. Damian had immediately woken up and offered his services to drive. Tim shot him down. Being Robin and riding around on the Redbird was one thing, but in another foreign country and underage wasn't going to end well.

Tim finally pulled into a motel. He got out of the car and turned to face Damian. The boy was already starting to unbuckle his seatbelt.

"Stay in the car. I'll handle this."

"Tt. You can barely stay awake," Damian protested.

"And you were just raised from the dead with hordes of assassins scouring the earth to find you. It may be best if you stay in the car and not attract attention to yourself. Stay in the car." And like that Tim left Damian. He half expected Damian to begin to follow him anyway. It wouldn't be out of character for him to do something like that.

He was a little surprised when Damian didn't get out of the car and follow him.

A short while later with a room key in hand, Tim went to gather Damian and the rest of their measly possessions. Damian was half in and out of consciousness. Tim felt a twinge of regret for disturbing him; he looked like a normal eleven year old when he was asleep. Not the demon child from hell.

"Hey Damian. I got a room. Do you want sleep on an actual bed instead of that car seat for a little bit?" He reached into the back seat and grabbed the satchel and threw it over his shoulder.

"It would not matter. It is still not my bed Drake." He climbed out of the car and followed Tim anyway.

Together they entered the room. The curtains were shut tightly and they made no move to open them. They didn't want the sun to shine in and people who may be looking for them to peek through. That and they were just too lazy to do anything accept drop their stuff on the ground and fall on the bed asleep. And that's precisely what Tim did.

His head didn't even hit the pillow.

* * *

><p>It would be a lie to say he hadn't noticed the increased activity around his compound. But in true al Ghul fashion he maintained his focus on his task. His plans could not afford a distraction. But yet his interest was piqued. What could be of such interest that nearly everyone in this damn compound had to be running around?<p>

He waved over one of his guards. The guard obeyed without any qualms.

"What is the commotion about outside?" Ra's asked looking up from his papers.

"I'm not quite entirely sure, sir. There have not been anyone to come in and inform me of any proceedings that would require this many men to be in motion. If you require answers, I will go a get some," he offered.

Ra's nodded. All thoughts to his planning were gone now. Whatever was going on, it was not under his orders. It must have been Talia's orders that they were following. He never regretted giving her own force of assassins, but there were times where he wondered just what she managed to do with them.

The man came back inside and stood at attention for a moment before reporting what he had found out.

"I was unable to retrieve any information that would be of use to why they are in motion. My apologies sir."

Ra's thought for a moment. He turned away from the table holding his plans and looked at the man.

"What did you hear?" Ra's questioned.

This was understood clearly by any of the assassins holding a higher standing within Ra's organization. They were trained to observe all things to best obtain their targets. The smallest thing could be the thing they used to bring down their target.

"Something's happened that has greatly upset your daughter. She has all of her units in motion. Extra patrols were established then suddenly recalled. All of this was done without informing you and it's clear that your daughter doesn't want you to know just what it is."

This puzzled Ra's. Talia had cut off her emotions mostly after Heretic murdered her son. If he didn't know any better, he would have to guess that the recent uptake in activities would have something to do with that. This needed to be further pondered. Perhaps he would confront her later about it.

Ra's turned back to his work and settled in for a long night of problem-solving ahead of him.

* * *

><p>Damian was watching as Drake slept. He attempted to wake him once, but the idiot had simply rolled over and continued to snore. That and the buffoon drooled. Drake was nearly an adult and drooled like a baby.<p>

He'd woken up a few hours previous. There was nothing to do in the motel room. The television only possessed basic cable, the furniture was already on its way out the door, even the toilet paper was too thin to clog the pipes. So in the end he started rooting around in Drake's things.

The imbicile was ill-prepared. Within the sack he carried there were a couple shirts, a spare pair of pants, a bag of dirt, and a cell phone. Most he understood why Drake would bring, but what the hell was with the bag of dirt? He resolved to ask once Drake woke.

Damian flopped on a chair and turned on the TV again to try and pass the boredom. Luckily, the measly cable package had a twenty-four hour news station. It was better to learn about what had been going on in the world while he was dead, then the soap operas that ran during the day.

Despite finding the anchor's voice irritating, the information provided was acceptable. Based upon the date given by the anchor and the date of his death, he had been dead for a few weeks. This gave another question. Why had the moron waited this long? If he had planned on doing this, wouldn't the best results be when he was newly dead? Yet another question to add to the pile to interrogate Drake when he woke up.

He was zoning out most of the newscast when a familiar name caught his attention. Damian tuned in for a moment before attempting to wake Drake.

"Drake, wake up." Drake gave a snort. "Drake, I demand that you wake up and pay attention to this."

There was no response.

"Alright then, I'm going to enjoy this more than you." Damian grabbed the arm under Drake's injured shoulder and gave it a twist.

"OW! Goddammit! What the hell, Damian!?" Drake awoke yelling.

"You must turn your attention to the television."

Drake muttered to himself and rubbed his shoulder, but looked to the television anyways. He read the words scrolling along the bottom of the screen before looking up to watch the picture provided by the helicopter in the area. His eyes widened in recognition and flopped back down on the bed.

"Well, damn," he muttered.

"I'm going to make an accurate guess and assume that that jet was our way of getting back to Gotham." Damian smirked. "Didn't your self-centered mind think of any possible backup plans?"

Drake rolled of the bed and began to pace across the worn carpeting. His hands were in constant motion, behind his back, on his face, crossed in front of each other. Damian was beginning to get dizzy from the pendulum motion of it all. Worse Drake kept muttering to himself.

"I should have realized that Talia would have had eyes on the plane since we landed. Gah, stupid. Especially since our little escapade in her pit wasn't all as secretive as I would have liked. She probably has already mobilized her forces across the world looking for us. How to get back to Gotham now without attracting any attention from assassins all looking to kill you? Yeah, that'll be easy."

And he continued to mutter to himself. It was irritating Damian to no end.

"Would you shut up already? Do you have a plan to get us back to Gotham or not?" Damian eventually yelled.

Drake paused in his useless muttering and looked at Damian.

"Did you go through my stuff when I was sleeping?" He asked.

Seeing as Damian was still holding onto the bag of dirt, he made no reservations of denying it.

"Yes. It was quite boring when you were busy drooling on yourself like a brat. Why would you carry a bag of dirt with you? It holds nothing of importance to this mission of yours," Damian said tossing it back to him.

Drake caught the bag with ease and cradled it. _Cradled_ it. Sentimental fool. He looked at the bag and smiled. Then he tossed it back at Damian.

"It's yours."

"Tt. What would I have the need of a bag of dirt for?" Damian held out the dirt away from him.

"That was my handful of dirt that I was supposed to throw on your grave." He gave a sad smile and sat down on the chair Damian had been sitting in earlier and rubbed his shoulder. "Thanks for aggravating my shoulder."

Damian looked at the bag in new light. Drake had kept the bag of dirt that he was supposed to throw on his grave?

"Why?" Damian asked. His tone was much softer than what he normally used with Drake.

"I couldn't let it go. I don't know, maybe if I let it go, that would have meant that I would have had to let you go as well."

_Had to let you go as well._ Those words echoed within Damian's skull for a while. What did that mean coming from Drake? He knew perfectly well that it was something that Grayson would say, followed by and I love you and a hug. Damian held back his shudder. He never understood the ways Grayson expressed his love towards other humans.

"If that's all you wanted to know, then I think that we should get going on our way. We can't afford to stay in one place too long. Not with assassins on our tails. If you need to use the bathroom, I would do it now. Oh! And before I forget, I realize that these will be too large for you, but, would you like to get out of that suit and into some jeans and a t-shirt? I have a spare."

Drake pulled out a t-shirt and jeans shoved them in Damian's arms, before turning him around and giving a light push to the bathroom. Damian was in such a state of shock that he didn't do anything. Drake was being nice to him.

_Drake_ was being _nice_ to him.

Finishing what he needed to do in the bathroom, he came out with a less than enthusiastic scowl on his face. The jeans were large, but a belt kept them securely on his hips, and the bottoms dragged a little on the ground, but they were Drake's pants and he could care less.

"Really? This is the shirt you gave me?" Damian said, foot tapping. The sleeves themselves almost came down to his elbows.

Drake looked up from gathering what little stuff he had and gave a small laugh.

"I honestly thought that it was just a black tee. Didn't mean for it to end up like that."

The bright blue Nightwing symbol was across Damian's chest.

"Do you have anything less humiliating?" Damian asked folding his arms across the symbol.

"Not unless you want to be wearing dried blood." Drake threw the satchel over his shoulder. The smirk was still on his face.

Damian pondered for a moment. Wearing someone else's dried blood would be less embarrassing, but that would draw unnecessary attention to themselves, and trying to slip out of a country back to another was something that dried blood would bring attention to. Whereas a fan boy's too large t-shirt wouldn't make as much noise in a crowd.

"This will have to suffice for now. But if one word of this leaks out to Grayson, I will personally end your life, no matter what the consequences," Damian growled.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I got that as a present from Dick one year." Drake laughed as he exited the room and loaded the car with his single bag.

Damian grumbled, but followed Drake, shutting the door behind him as he went.

* * *

><p>With one final kick, the bag detached from the hook and was sent sliding across the floor. She breathed heavily, hair escaping from the clasp in the back. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and walked to where her water was. She sat on the bench and stared at the television. She normally didn't have it on at all. It was a distraction to her normal routine, and she could afford no distractions.<p>

But today she needed it to ease her running mind.

_"-it is unclear whether anyone was in the plane at the time the bomb went off, or who the intended target was,"_ the reporter said._ "It is known that the jet was privately owned by Wayne Enterprises in Gotham, but whether or not the Wayne family was the intended target still remains unclear."_

Talia flipped off the TV.

That wasn't exactly what she wanted to happen. Sabotage would have been acceptable. Tampering with the mechanics of the plane so when they were halfway across the ocean, they would crash and none would be the wiser as to the sabotage. And now since the boys mode of transportation was destroyed and on the international news, there was a high likelihood that her father would get involved.

And that was something that she could do without.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Can I just say I love how people are trying to figure out how Tim dies. I'm glad that you all are enjoying this story. But still give me reviews. It makes me smile, and heaven knows I need a little of that with college assignments. **


	7. Chapter 6

_Everyday I get a little closer _  
><em> And everything I'm made off starts to melt away <em>  
><em> I see the signs but I can't quite make the words out <em>  
><em> All I want is to be near you but I push you away<em>

_~ Thousand Foot Krutch_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Six<span>**

Damian didn't understand just how Drake managed to secure passage on a ship without getting spotted by his mother. Was it possible that he had underestimated Drake again? That was something that he would never do again if he at all had any power. But here he stood, sunglasses perched on his face, and baseball cap pulled low to cover the white bandage. His fingers slid up underneath the bandage and scratched at the white hairs that had appeared while he was sleeping.

The white greatly distressed him. It reminded him of Todd, and that just wouldn't do. The moment he found hair dye, the white was going away. Or he was going to rip it out of his skull. He was Damian Wayne and there was no way he could afford to be affiliated with that, that criminal.

"Everything's settled, we just need to get into one of those crates," Drake said returning to the hiding spot that he had left Damian in.

"Crates?" Damian looked at Tim incredulously. "You paid a man to smuggle us to the United States?"

"Yep."

That was all Drake said about it. Drake simply picked up that pack that he had and walked away from Damian into the crate that he had gestured to. Not for the first time since he'd known Drake, he wondered just how far Drake would go to achieve what he wants.

Obviously very far, if he was willing to risk his life to raise Damian from the dead.

Damian followed Drake into the crate and sat as far from Drake as he possibly could. They waited in silence for the crate to be loaded on the ship.

When the crate was finally secured and hoisted into the air, the occupants inside were dislodged from their sitting positions and thrown into each other. Damian was thrown into Drake right into the older boy's wounded shoulder, and Drake gave a small cry of pain. But he held onto the younger boy, protecting his head.

After the crate was settled and secured, Damian gave Drake a shove, not minding the fact his palm dug into the wound on Drake's shoulder, and scrambled to the other end of the crate. This new Drake scared him, if he was to be honest with himself, but he wouldn't allow himself to be.

"You okay?"

Damian merely shrugged off Drake's concern. Probably it was only for appearances. The moment that they got back to Gotham, he would go back to being the whiney, undeserving brat that would hate him. Then possibly they could go on with their lives of ignoring one another's existence.

Damian curled around himself. Being stuck in a plane with Drake for the few hours while they flew back to Gotham would have been bad enough. But now he had to suffer through a few days ride in a cargo crate that was probably meant for smuggling victims of a sex trafficking ring. That was a torture in itself. Drake would probably try to talk him death again about how he is an unworthy little brat.

And so he waited.

And waited.

Drake kept his pathetic mouth shut save for a few pained groans as he tried to move his shoulder around. The silence was around for a few hours before Drake finally looked at his watch and walked away. Damian simply watched as the boy knocked a few times on the door.

The door was opened and a basket was shoved into Drake's hand. The boy muttered a thank you and the door was slammed back shut. Drake moved back to the spot where Damian sat and set the basket down. Then he left it.

"What's that?" Damian asked.

"Food. We have to make it last the whole ride though, so I would eat sparingly," Drake said.

Damian walked over and sure enough, a half a loaf of bread was sitting there with a jar of peanut butter and a jug of water. He scoffed at the food.

"You would think that because they're smuggling us, they would give us something more substantial."

"I didn't tell them."

"What? You realize if you had told them, we could be in the captain's cabin right now?" Damian could feel his temperature rising. Did this idiot even think before arranging this passage?

"No, if I had told them, we would be in the brig and Bruce would be receiving a ransom demand. These are smugglers who do this for a profit. They wouldn't pass up an opportunity to earn a large amount of cash. Consider yourself lucky I managed to convince them to give us that food."

Damian thought about Drake's logic for a moment. Yes, that would probably be what happened. But one thing remained.

"What did you tell them?"

"I spun a story, something about being refugees and needing to get to the states without detection. I'm not sure that they bought it, but they sure believed the money I offered."

Damian sat in quiet. He wasn't hungry. He simply stared at the basket and waited for exhaustion to take him, no matter how long it would take.

"If you aren't going to eat now, I suggest sleep. Time will go by faster if you're asleep."

Damian ignored what Drake said and continued to stare at the basket, allowing his thoughts to take control. There were a lot of them and there didn't seem to be an end to them any time soon. Well, he had a couple of days to figure them out stuck in this crate.

* * *

><p>The throwing disk was thrown sharp and true, cutting the jugular of the attendant that dared open her mouth. Her mouth flopped open before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground dead.<p>

"How could you let them escape the country? This is UNACCEPTABLE!" Talia screamed.

"Our apologies your highness. The Drake kid has resources that we weren't expecting." The voice didn't waver to the sound, but the heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Talia stood straight, trying to recompose herself. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them again, her stoic exterior was reestablished. She had an image to maintain, and a job to be done.

"Is there a problem, daughter?"

Talia's blood ran cold for a moment, calm forgotten. By the time she turned around to see her father standing there, once again the emotionless face was in place.

"Why would you think that a problem would be?" She asked, keeping her voice level.

"You may be able to lie to yourself, but I am your father. And this is my organization, there isn't much that goes on around here that I am not aware of. It takes much for you to lose control like that, even for an instant. Does this have to do with Damian's death?" Ra's said looking into his daughters eyes for the truth.

"No."

"I see. Well, I'll let you attend to your business then." Ra's turned to leave, personal guards obediently at his side.

Talia let a small sigh.

"Next time though, I would advise using simpler means of keeping the Detective's children in the country than blowing up the jet. It would draw less attention." And like that he was gone.

Talia closed her eyes. So he knew. She wasn't surprised. She turned to another one of her attendants.

"Ready a scout group. Find how they got out of the country."

"Yes, Princess."

* * *

><p>Tim was watching Damian. Like he always had. Like he watched all of them. He could tell that the boy had questions on his mind, but wouldn't voice them. Damian would grip onto a thought and let that thought consume him until there was nothing else that mattered. He was very much like Bruce in that way.<p>

They were on the sixth hour on the boat when Tim thought that he should offer a little push.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was a line that Dick had pulled on him many a time.

"Tt. No. I have no need to discuss such trivial matters with your lower intelligence."

Alright. Tim sat back against the cold metal of the crate and rested his head against the wall. If he could, he would try to fall asleep. But he had a nagging feeling. Something kept telling him to try and get the kid to talk about just what he was feeling inside. To see what questions he wanted answered. He tried again.

"Whenever you want to get some answers to those questions, then I will be right here, and I will answer them the best that I can."

Tim took the lack of response as a good thing.

* * *

><p>Dick was just getting a headache from simply watching Bruce. He couldn't imagine the migraine that Bruce was getting. Being on the phone for hours straight answering questions about the plane and why it was there and what could possibly be the motive for it exploding. International incidents were always a pain to deal with. Dick dug the heels of his hands into his temple.<p>

"Headache?"

"Yeah. Just watching Bruce act through all of these phone calls is giving me one. I can't imagine how bad his would be." Dick answered Jason without looking up.

"Naw, Brucie's tough. Probably doesn't even drop a sweat at lying at these things anymore."

Dick shook his head. Lying about one's activities is one thing, but lying about something that he had no control over and having no idea where your children are is another thing. A hand clapped onto his shoulder. Dick looked up to his younger brother. There was a look that he had never seen Jason's face before.

"What are you doing here Jason?" Dick asked suddenly.

A hurt look spread across Jason's face for a moment, before a scowl appeared and his hand was removed from Dick's shoulder.

"Look, _Dickie_, what-"

Dick quickly backtracked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I was just wondering why you are still here. I thought that you would have left a while ago to beat up people that were pissing you off. I didn't think that you really cared about this family." Dick was praying that that rewording was enough to keep Jason from running again.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick before sitting on a stool that was next to Dick's on the bar. He reached across the countertop and grabbed one of the fruit that was sitting in a bowl. He rolled it around in his hands while he thought of how to answer the question.

"I'm not quite sure. I thought since Damian's death that I would go back to the shadows, the lost son, so to say. But you had me come to the funeral. I made a promise of sorts to Damian as we lowered him to the ground. I wasn't sure how well that it would work, but I wanted to be a part of the family, I guess. I think I completely failed." Jason didn't look up from his fruit.

Dick couldn't stop his heart from going to his brother. He slung an arm over Jason's shoulders.

"No one's perfect. I'm not perfect, no matter what you seem to think. They don't want perfect, they just want you, despite what they protest. I think that when they get back that we should do something, the four of us, out of costume. Maybe go to a baseball game or something."

Jason looked finally to his older brother.

"You're so sure that both of them are going to get back?" He asked.

"Yes." _I have too._

They relapsed into silence. The only sound was Bruce's talking through the phone to whichever international organization he was talking to now. Finally he finished the conversation and walked into the kitchen where the boys sat. Taking from their lead, he sat on another bar stool.

"What news do you have for us?" Dick asked finally.

"There were no signs that the plane was occupied when it blew. Which is a good thing, we don't need any more war casualties in this fight, but in other news, I had to tell them just why my jet was there in the first place." Bruce rubbed his index finger and his thumb over his eyes. A sign he was getting or already had a headache.

"What did you say?"

"Whatever came to mind. I told them that it was Damian's plane and he was off doing his education in the desert somewhere. And before you say anything, I told them that he would be out of contact for a while, and that everything was fine. We don't need more people searching for my sons."

Bruce's blue eyes were tired. Reflecting just what they were all feeling. It was hard to get sleep when family was in danger. Dick guessed that he looked very much the same way. He hadn't got much sleep since this mess began, and probably wouldn't until Tim was safe back home, with Damian preferably.

"Bruce you should get some sleep," Dick said.

"I'll sleep when my boys get back home." Bruce got up and marched out of the room. Dick turned to Jason.

"Do you think he realized just what he said?" Jason asked.

"If he did, he's not going to do anything about it. What matters is the end result." Dick rubbed his forehead again.

"You should sleep too. You look like shit." Jason said giving Dick a small shove.

"Thanks."

Jason nodded and walked out of the kitchen. Dick sat for a little moment longer. Yeah, sleep would do him some good. Slowly he made his way upstairs to where his room was. Along the way, he passed by Timmy's room. The door was opened just a crack.

Dick walked into the room. Vaguely he could hear Tim's voice in the back of his head telling him to get out. He smiled a little at the thought. The room was still the same that Dick had remembered. There was not a speck of dust around, whether it was from Alfred or Tim, he never was sure. Dick sat down on Tim's bed. The only thing that wasn't in perfect order.

He leaned back and rested his head on the pillow. There was a crinkling sound underneath his head. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper. And it was addressed to him. Curious, he opened it and began reading.

* * *

><p>Tim was watching Damian sleep. Only a few more days, then he would be able to drop Damian off and get on with his life.<p>

Eventually, he flipped off the flashlight and rolled over and tried to fall asleep. Tim knew that the chances of him actually falling asleep were slim. He was in the middle of a smugglers ship and that there were assassins from all over the world were looking for him and the brat. So chances for sleep were slim, but hell, he was going to try.

He could feel as he was falling to sleep when a small voice broke the darkness.

"Why'd you do it?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for all the support you've been giving. And more brotherly bonding, yay! As always, Review! See you next time!**


	8. Chapter 7

_His welfare is of my concern_  
><em>No burden is he to bear<em>  
><em>We'll get there<em>  
><em>For I know<em>  
><em>He would not encumber me<em>  
><em>He ain't heavy, he's my brother<em>

_~The Hollies_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Seven<span>**

"Why'd you do it?"

Tim froze, not that anyone could see it in the dark. He didn't want to ever answer that question. Not because he didn't want to share, but because he didn't really know why he did it. At the time he thought that he knew why he was doing this. But know he was unsure why. Nothing had changed between them. He still hated the kid. The kid had still attempted to kill him multiple times. And yet he risked his life to bring Damian's back.

He could hear the annoyed finger tapping of Damian from across the bunker. He groaned and rolled over; reaching out to turn on the flashlight that he had just turned off.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked, in attempts to delay for a moment longer while he came up with a suitable lie.

"Don't pull that bullshit. You know exactly what I'm asking. Your intellect isn't as diminished that you don't know what I'm talking about." Damian folded his arms across his chest and glared at Tim.

Tim took a deep breath and prepared himself for an onslaught.

"I'm not sure why I did it."

"Pardon me?" Damian's eyebrows rose. That apparently wasn't the answer that he thought he was going to get.

"At the time I thought that I was doing something for Bruce, but now I'm not so sure."

Tim could see that Damian was very confused at this point. Unfortunately Tim wasn't sure just how to explain this whole situation to Damian without there be any violence. He wasn't even sure if he could explain it to himself, and he was the one who came up with this crazy plan. There was an awkward silence between the two.

"You mentioned my father. Did he have you do this?"

Tim let out a snort. A faint smile appeared on the grim face.

"Right. Because Bruce would have one of his sidekicks go and do a mission that would probably kill them. No kid, it's all me. If Bruce was going to have someone do this, he would have done it himself. And that would have been a whole lot messier."

"Then why was it you? You don't like me. You hate me."

Another faint smile.

"I don't like you, yes, but I don't hate you. I never wished you dead. I just wanted for you to give me the same type of respect that you give the others."

Damian looked away from Tim.

"I don't expect anything to change between us now that you're back. You can go right back to hating me after we get back to Gotham and being the most loved."

"I'm not."

"What?" Now it was Tim's turn to be confused. What was he talking about now?

"I'm not the most loved. My mother killed me because she couldn't accept who've I become. Father can't seem to get past the fact I was raised by assassins. Todd just doesn't care about anyone, and Grayson tries, but at times I feel as if I come short of what he wants as a brother."

"Oh? And who do you think would be the perfect model for Dick's brother?"

"You."

Tim froze again. Damian was jealous of him? And through all of this time, Tim thought that Damian simply hated his guts for intruding into a family that he wasn't born into. But Damian was wrong.

"I'm not the perfect model. Hell, I'm probably the worst example of a brother there is."

"It matters not to Grayson. He whines about your prolonged absences and frets over you like a mother hen. You just don't realize. The way his face lights up when you come back safe sickens me." Damian hugged his knees to his chest.

Tim fought the urge to cry, or laugh.

"You should try to look from the other side. Dick's face lights up with any opportunity to do anything. The same look is on his face when you manage not to stab me whenever we're in the same room."

"Tt. Whatever."

"You should call Dick by his first name once. And watch how his face lights up. That would probably make his year, of not his whole life."

It was Damian's turn to snort. The idea of using a first name making someone's entire life was ludicrous.

"You should get some sleep kid. There's been enough of the sentimental crap between the two of us to last a lifetime. Just remember what I said, alright?" And like that Tim flipped off the flashlight and lay down on his back. His shoulder protested greatly at the motion, but Tim did nothing for it.

He heard as the kid was shuffling around, but Tim closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

* * *

><p>Dick was running through the house like his body was on fire. He looked around wildly for anyone. He avoided where Bruce would be brooding, there was no reason to add something new to his plate. Dick wanted to find Jason, but that man was as slippery as some of the criminals that they chased at night. Probably came from the times he was the criminal, er, anti-hero.<p>

"Master Dick, I would be careful running around the manor in such a way. This is the way that people unintentionally injure themselves." Alfred took a close look at Dick's face. "Whatever is the matter Master Dick?"

"Tim…Tim, he…he," Dick gasped out trying to formulate actual words. His hands rested on his knees as he tried to force the words out of his mouth while breathing at the same time.

"Take a moment to breathe Master Dick. Whatever it is, I'm sure that it could wait until air is back in your lungs." He paused a moment to allow Dick to catch his breath. "Now what was it that needed to be shared at this very moment?"

"Tim's not coming back."

"Whatever do you mean? Of course Master Tim is coming back." Alfred reached out and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"No, he's not. See?" Dick shoved the letter he was holding in his hand into Alfred's.

Alfred allowed an eyebrow to rise before he looked down at the letter in his hand. He read the letter as quickly as he could before looking up to Dick with a panicked look on his face.

"Where exactly did you find this?" He asked.

"It was in Tim's room. He knew that I would go in there I suppose." Dick tried to remain calm, but there was no way to contain everything.

"Where exactly in Tim's room?"

"Under his pillow."

Alfred pursed his lips and brought his fingers to his chin. He thought for a moment before he opened his mouth once again.

"Don't you worry about this piece of paper Master Dick-" Alfred began.

"Why not?" Dick interrupted.

Alfred only took a breath before answering. Years of taking care of Dick helped in moments like these, where the young man's impatience took control of the rest of him, especially his mouth.

"I was there when the young Master Tim wrote it. It was an exercise to help him. He wanted to throw it out once it was over, but I told him to keep it. As a reminder at a future date."

"So he's not going to leave us?" Dick was having a difficult time wrapping his head around it. Just an exercise?

"Master Dick, you are quite tired. You've been awake for nearly two days straight. The stress of this situation is beginning to affect your motor systems. Please, sir, go and get some sleep."

Dick nodded and trod away to find his room or a sofa where he could lay down and find some sleep. He flopped on his bed face first before rolling over and began to snore. He didn't know that Alfred had been lying.

* * *

><p>Damian was waiting. For what he didn't exactly know. Something along the lines of, how did they put it, gotcha! But there didn't seem to be any sort of that coming. Drake had simply rolled over and went to sleep. Like the whole incident wasn't life changing at all. Idiot.<p>

But he still didn't really know why Drake did the deed.

Why was it difficult to figure out why Drake did it? It wasn't like he was the most brilliant person in the world. Damian could easily list off twelve people that were more intelligent than Drake. There were probably more out there, but he could care less about them.

Damian rested his head on his arm and stared up into the darkness. He had been positive that Drake hated his guts, but it seems that he doesn't. Drake doesn't like him, but that had always been evident.

But why?

Drake had said that he didn't know why he'd done it. On some level Damian believed him. The look on his face was very clear that he wasn't sure why he'd done it. But there was something else. Something that Drake wasn't telling him. And it wasn't like he could hack into a computer this time and figure it out.

He added all the facts up in his head. One, his mother had him killed before and now was sending assassins after him to make sure that the job is done. Two, Drake was the one to raise him from the dead. Three, no one from the rest of the 'family' had told Drake to do such a thing; it was likely that they didn't even know about it. Four, Drake wasn't sure why he did it. But there was something inside of him that knew why, even if he was hiding it from himself.

Damian gave a small groan. All of this thinking was giving him a headache. He supposed that it was the blow to his head. He could figure it out later. His head needed to rest for a little bit.

* * *

><p>The smoke was thick in the cabin. He didn't understand why they didn't go outside to smoke, or at least open a window. It was very distracting for him. But then again he seemed like he was the only non-smoker on the entire ship. Currently he was trying to watch the TV screen, and the smoke was getting in the way.<p>

"Would you be so kind as to move the smoking outside? I'm trying to watch the TV," he protested.

His cabin mate came over and clapped him on the back. He had a cigarette between his teeth and smiled with his yellowing teeth.

"What's so interesting that we gotta go outside to smoke one?" His gravelly voice growled in his ear.

"There was something about an explosion, and I can't tell you much else, cause I can't read the screen." He glared up at his cabin mate.

The other man glared back down at him, not moving to do anything.

"Jeez, enough with the sexual tension already. Just open the damn window," grumbled another member of the crew.

Giving up the stare, the crewmate walked over and opened the window. He took a few more drags on the cigarette before flicking it out the window and waving some of the smoke out.

"Happy?"

He didn't make a noise. He was focused on the program. What was on wasn't what he thought it would be. He thought that it would be a warehouse that had some sort of malfunction, or possibly radical terrorists targeting a religious place. It was neither one of those things. It was a jet.

A goddamn jet.

"What the hell? All this hubbub for a jet that exploded?"

He shushed whoever was speaking behind him. He wanted to know what was going on.

_"And while there are no injuries that have been reported, the international authorities are looking into the cause of the explosion and are searching for those involved." _

"International?"

"SHH!" He waved down the person behind him.

_"The head of Wayne Enterprises, declined an interview, but an inside source claims that the passengers that were aboard that jet were the CEO's own children."_

The screen switched from showing the news to show an image of the Wayne family at some charity function. They all stood together, but the two shortest ones were glaring at each other, like they were in the middle of an argument about something. Mr. Wayne was the only one actually looking at the camera, one of his other sons was trying to get in between the two glaring at each other, and the other one was staring someplace off screen distancing himself from the rest of the family.

"Hey! That one looks like the guy who paid passage," someone shouted from the back of the room.

"Shut _UP_, Geoff! You can't even see the screen through the smoke! Get outta here!" Someone else yelled.

There was grumbling as Geoff made his way out of the lounge and down below decks.

"Damn drunkard thought that we were escorting billionaire's kids across the ocean. I wish we were. Probably they would have paid better." There was a rumbling laugh echoing throughout the lounge.

But there was a seed that was planted in his mind. Could it possibly be that they were transporting a billionaire's children? But more importantly, could this be something that his _employers_ would be interested in?

He stood and walked out of the still smoky room to the fresh air on the deck. The air cleared his head. He wouldn't be able to make any calls yet until they got on land anyways, so he had time to figure it all out anyway.

* * *

><p>They were so close. So, so close. He could practically reach his hand out and touch the safety of the doorknob. But just as he was about to close his hand around the cold metal, he heard screaming behind him. He turned to see his little brother being impaled by a sharp sword. He went to scream out his name but no words came out of his mouth. He fell to his knees at the sight. Tears blurred his vision.<p>

"You failed him. Just like all the others."

He looked up to see the man that he had admired for years scowling down at him. He opened his mouth to say that he had tried, when a sword was stabbed through his body as well.

"NO!" Tim shouted sitting up. Sweat was dripping down his face and down his back. He padded himself down to make sure that it was all just a dream and none of it was really real.

Tim fumbled around looking for his flashlight, and then fumbled a little more when he tried to turn it on. When he finally succeeded he shone the beam of light over to Damian's side of the crate. He held his breath until he saw Damian's chest move up and down with each breath that he took.

His heart was still beating rapidly from the dream. No, nightmare. Slowly he crawled over to the other side of the crate and sat by Damian's head for a moment. He really did look like a regular kid when he was sleeping. His scowl wasn't glued on like it was at waking hours of the day, and while he wasn't smiling, he seemed a bit relaxed.

Acting upon impulse, Tim reached down and pulled Damian into his lap and gave him a hug. He wasn't squeezing as tightly as Dick would, the kid was still asleep, but he just needed to feel him breathing against him. After carrying him around without feeling a pulse and breathing, he needed to be sure.

The peace only lasted for a moment before Damian started to stir.

"What are you doing?" Mumbled Damian.

"Shh."

"Unhand me! I do not desire to be held so!" Damian was becoming more and more alert with each passing moment that Tim held him.

"Suck it up brat. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me little brother."

Damian's attempts to wiggle away ceased. He stared up into Tim's light blue eyes, his own widening.

Tim then realized just what he said. He didn't allow it to show on his face, but he was probably as surprised as Damian was.

"Did you just-?"

"I guess I did. Now sleep."

Tim watched as Damian shifted his face away from Tim's but yet snuggled closer in Tim's arms. Tim allowed a small smile on his face. Maybe things were going to get better after this. They would still be themselves, just maybe with the less of the killing attempts now.

"I know that you're grinning. Get rid of it before I do."

Tim only chuckled and held his brother more securely.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't you just love brotherly bonding? I'm so glad that you all are enjoying this story. It means a lot. As always leave a review, cause I love seeing them. **


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

Stephanie was pacing in the Batcave. She could hear the whisperings of the others in the cave as they watched her. She didn't focus on them. No, her mind was focused on something else entirely. She was focused on why they didn't decide to do anything and just sat around while their son and brother was marching to his death. How could they just sit around? They loved Tim, why wouldn't they try to stop him from doing something stupid?

She froze when a thought crossed her mind. Quickly she shook that out of the realm of possibilities. They didn't want Tim to die. That wasn't the reason why they didn't do anything. Her brain churned for a few more moments before coming up with her answer.

They wanted Tim to succeed. They wanted him to come back with Damian in tow. They wanted their baby back, as much as Damian would protest it.

Stephanie's pacing resumed. Talia would do anything to stop Tim, she knew. They only had to get to Gotham and they would be relatively safe. Sneaky assassins were always managing to find their way into the city despite the vigilance of the vigilantes. But they would be protected here.

She walked to the corner of the cave that held all of their uniforms. The Red Robin suit still stood there standing tall. Tim's OCD kept the entire locker clean and orderly, despite the fact that he wasn't there often. Even Bruce's locker wasn't as orderly as Tim's.

She would be lying if she said that she didn't worry about him.

She worried a little about everyone. It was a part of the job, a part of being in the family. But there was a special place inside of her that had long been suppressed and she could feel as it tried to break free again.

A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped a little. She turned to see Jason standing there.

"Whadaya want Jason?" She asked turning back to look at Tim's locker. She blinked tears out of her eyes.

"Listen Blondie, I realize that I might be the black sheep here, and therefore should not be giving advice, but you need to talk about this to someone."

"Who? Bruce is brooding, Dick hasn't gotten any rest hardly since this ordeal began, Barbara is working overtime on the computers to try and find just where on the world Tim might be, and Cass doesn't know about it and neither does anyone else outside of this family. I don't really think that talking is an option for me."

"You could talk to me." He offered.

Steph snorted. "Right, cause you'd listen to a poor girl's woes."

Jason's hand removed itself from her shoulder and Steph expected him to walk away from her to leave her to her own thoughts. Instead he sat in his little locker-cubby and crossed his arms.

"Try me."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Steph sighed.

"Why don't you start with that you still have feelings for Tim?"

Steph looked with shock at Jason's face. The biting smirk wasn't there. A softer smile was there instead, a knowing smile. Her heart did a little flip-flopping as she allowed the thought to sink into her brain. Was she still in love with Tim?

"It's a long story."

"I've got nothin' better to do."

* * *

><p>Damian was wrestling with these new ideas in his head. Drake thought of him as a little brother? Even after all of the shit that Damian did to him? For all purposes Drake should hate his guts and not be cuddling with him. He repressed a shudder. Drake was still clutching him like a ragdoll. Damian never realized that Drake was as much of a sentimental fool as Grayson.<p>

_Little brother._

He couldn't shake those two little words. Was he really? Grayson had the qualifications to fall into the brother category, but Drake? There was no affection shared between the two, except for the glomp of a hug that he was ensnared in at the moment.

_Little brother._

What was a brother? Biologically, it was two of the male species that shared DNA from the same mother or father. But was it possible that someone could be brother's without sharing that key piece of genetic material? Grayson seemed to think so. Yet, Grayson seemed to be in love with his cereal too, so his viewpoint was invalid.

Could Drake have come to see him as a brother too? No, that wasn't possible. Drake still didn't like him. Brothers are supposed to love each other and he most certainly didn't love Drake. He had some admiration for going behind enemy lines to raise his sorry butt from the dead, but that was it.

_Little brother._

Finally Damian resolved to ask Drake just what that meant. He jabbed his elbow into Drake's ribs and instantly Drake was awake and pushing himself in front of Damian.

"What the hell?" Drake asked once he saw that there was no danger.

"I demand to know something," Damian retorted standing.

"Well I would like a hot shower." Drake said settling back against the wall. "What is it that you needed to know this moment?"

"What constitutes a person as a brother?"

Drake thought for a moment. "Well, usually they love each other."

"Then by very definition we are not brothers, since I hold no affection for you whatsoever." Damian crossed his arms over his chest.

"You didn't let me finish. I said usually. There are cases where they don't always get along and fight each other over simple things. But that doesn't change the fact that they're brothers."

Damian failed to see the point. He raised an eyebrow to convey this message.

Drake sighed. "Look, it's hard to explain. It's like this, you don't like me, but there are times where you would stick your neck out for me and vice versa despite that. You may not consider that you would do this for me, but I did for you. So consider that next time you want to gut me. The simple fact is that we're brothers, dysfunctional yes, but brothers. So you're stuck with me Demon Spawn, get used to it."

Damian wanted very much to punch Drake for his answer. Because in a way, it made sense.

* * *

><p>The rest of the ride over to the United States went uneventfully. Tim and Damian didn't really speak after that. They didn't need to. Everything that they needed to know was told through their body language and simple gestures. Their brains were busy trying to figure out their own problems. Damian was focused on figuring out why Drake was his brother. Tim needed to figure out how to get the last twelve miles to Wayne Manor without alerting press or undercover operatives to their position.<p>

Above deck one crewman was still wrestling with if he should risk using the satellite phone without the captain's permission. It hadn't been hard to really determine that the two in the shipping crate was really the Wayne boys. One look at them after seeing the news cast was all it took to confirm it.

It was the last day of the voyage. He'd finally decided that he was going to phone his employers. It wasn't a direct line to the head, but the news would get to the right people. He was only an intern, if that was the right word for whatever he was.

Sneaking into the captain's cabin he prepared what he was going to say for the shortest call possibly in his life.

* * *

><p>"We've got a lead Princess." He said running into the room.<p>

Talia only scribbled more words onto the paper that she was writing. Leads could be something or be nothing, it all depended.

"Speak." She didn't look up from her writing.

"A boy matching Drake's description was seen paying for passage to America. There was a younger boy with him as well."

"Where are they set to land?"

"Twelve miles from Gotham. Blüdhaven ports."

A small smile graced her lips. "Ready the unit in Blüdhaven. Let the hunting begin."

* * *

><p>Tim knew that they were getting close to the ports. His cell phone signal had been gaining more bars for the past few hours. When he had enough he made a call and left a couple messages. Local police saying that there were smugglers boarding at their docks with humans inside. Then he called various family voicemails, but Damian couldn't hear what he was saying, Tim had been very careful to keep those conversations hush-hush.<p>

The boat was rocking back and forth a bit more erratically now. Tim guessed that they were nearing the ports and the rocking was the wakes from other ships. They were so close now. Once on shore twelve more miles and everything could be behind them.

"Are you ready for this?" Tim asked. It was the first time that they had really spoken to each other in a while, since the whole brother conversation occurred.

Damian gave his usual non-commental verbal tic. Tim took that as a yes. He didn't know when they were going to be docking in the port, but he felt that it was an appropriate time to at least gather all of the things they had. Which wasn't much.

Throwing a couple shirts in the bag and setting the flashlight on top was all they had to do.

Now it was back to sitting and waiting.

"What do you want to do when you get back to the Manor?" Tim asked, unable to handle the silence for much longer.

Damian snorted. "Evade Grayson's arms. If he catches me, he'll never let go."

A smile twitched on Tim's face. "At least they'll welcome you back. I'm going to be grounded for life."

"You don't even live there anymore."

"Let me rephrase that. They're going to lock me in the cave and never let me out of their sights ever again."

Damian snorted again. "They should've done that years ago."

The jab didn't find its mark. In actuality he was surprised that Damian didn't continue the jab. Was it possible that the kid was softening his attitude towards him? Quickly he brushed it off. There was no way that the kid would really come to care for him.

Tim watched Damian for a little bit. His face was scrunched together like he was trying to think of some answer to something he didn't know. And if there was one thing that Damian prided himself on, other than being the true heir, was his ability to outsmart people.

"What's got your head in knots?"

"None of your business. Leave me alone, or I'll break your face." Damian didn't look up, nor did any muscle change from its position after he finished speaking.

Tim suppressed a smirk. The kid really needed to get more creative with his threats. Using the same threats over and over again without following through lost the threatening aspect of it. Maybe the kid should hang out with Jason to expand that threat library. Tim was sure that _that_ would be a great idea.

Tim checked the time on his phone again, before turning it off and taking the battery out of the back. After a moment he also took out the memory card and slipped it in his back pocket. Tossing the rest of his phone's parts into his bag he rested against the wall behind him and settled for another wait.

* * *

><p>"Is my jet ready?" She asked.<p>

"Yes, princess. The fuel tanks are filled and the pilot's already in the cockpit with the engine's warming up."

"Good. I wish to get there before my son and Drake arrive. My intention is to be there when we apprehend them." Talia walked out of the room leaving behind a bag upon the floor for her attendant to pick up and take out to her plane.

Talia pulled her leather gloves tight against her hand and made a fist, the leather rubbing against itself. Her heels clicked against the tiles on the floor as she made her way out of the hangar to her jet. If all went well, as it should, she should get there in a few hours with time to spare before their ship pulled into the dock.

She climbed onto the plane and settled into her seat. Her bag was dropped gently next to her and the attendant retreated into her quarters.

Talia was left to ponder her thoughts as the plane took off into the air westward.

Could it be possible she had underestimated just how far Mr. Drake would go to please his adopted father? To had she allowed it to happen because Damian was her son and it had pained her to put him through that pain? No, that couldn't be the answer. Damian wasn't her son anymore.

She had declared him an enemy and that was practically the same thing.

She needed to formulate a plan. Separate the two on the run, then dispose of them. The older one first, though he wouldn't be much of a problem with his injury. Then she could focus on all attention to Damian. There was one thing that she had to decide though, would she have him eliminated once again, or could she recondition him back to what she wanted without ever letting her beloved knowing that Drake had succeeded in his quest.

She could get her little boy back.

She ignored that small fluttering in her heart.

* * *

><p>Alfred knocked politely against the oak door. He waited only a few moments out of consideration before he walked into the room.<p>

"Master Bruce?" He asked.

Bruce's head shot up from the desktop, hair cow licked against one side of his head.

"It was Flash," he mumbled.

"Yes, I'm sure it was Master Bruce, but there is something that needs your attention at the moment sir." He held out the letter in his hand.

"What's this, Alfred?"

"Young Master Tim it appears was having a small crisis about his place in his family." Alfred maintained his standing position as Bruce began to read the letter.

His hands shook as he read the letter. Whether it was from the content in the letter for from the lack of sleep and the stress of the situation that they are in, Alfred wasn't sure. But both were affecting the man whom he had come to see as his son in some ways. When he finally finished reading it he looked at Alfred.

"What does this mean?"

"I think that we need to reaffirm young Master Tim's belief of belonging into this family. It's quite possible because now he's a middle child he may be feeling left out of the love," Alfred said loosening up a little.

"How so?" Bruce asked sitting down on his bed.

"When was the last time that the two of you actually did something together that didn't have to with your night work? When was the last time you did something fun with him, with any of your boys?"

Bruce opened his mouth to answer when he realized that he didn't remember the last time he had taken the time to do anything with his boys in a long time. Before this fiasco, the last time they were together was at Damian's funeral, and before that, well he didn't remember. He would take Dick and Jason individually to baseball games when they lived with him, but he couldn't remember if he had done anything with Tim.

"What should I do?"

"Tell him you love him, show him you love him. Never let him go. Don't let any of your sons go."

Bruce stood up and walked over to his butler. For only a moment he rested a hand on Alfred's shoulder, then he surrounded the older man in a large hug. Alfred hesitantly wrapped his arms around Bruce.

"What would I do without you Alfred?" Bruce muttered, mostly to himself.

"I dare say that you would have starved long ago. You are a horrible cook."

For a moment in midst of everything, Bruce let out a small laugh.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I was going to say that Tim was gonna be locked in the closet, but then I actually thought about it. Whoops. And Bruce would totally starve to death, cause he wouldn't be able to cook a thing. And finding relevant quotes are hard. **

**So, leave a review, please. **


	10. Chapter 9

_Help your brother's boat across, and your own will reach the shore. _

_~Hindu Proverb_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Nine<strong> 

They arrived a day later than what Tim would have liked, but their feet were back on solid ground at least again. The crew that had taken them across the ocean made sure that their money was going to their bank accounts before doing much more than letting them out of the crate. Once the money was transacted, they were keen on getting the two boys off the boat. Tim and Damian were a few rows of shipping containers away when Damian turned to Tim and opened his mouth.

"Why did we not alert the authorities to their presence in the docks? Are we yet not still crime fighters?"

Tim only held up a hand and counted backwards from five. When he reached the number one, sirens pierced the air and shouts could be heard coming from the boat. Tim turned to look at Damian with a smile on his face.

"Did you really think that I would let them just walk away? Those other containers had young girls that were taken against their wills. Come on now, you must think of me better than that."

Damian grumbled something that Tim couldn't quite catch. He didn't bother in trying to figure out what it was, something else was bothering him.

The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

The quicker that they got out of there, the better he would feel. His feet picked up the pace as he searched for the right container. Three rows and four proclaiming's that he was incompetent later he finally found the right one.

As promised, the container had no lockbox covering the lock and the key was buried in the dirt right below. Tim brushed it off and opened the crate. Inside were two motorcycles and extra equipment hanging on the wall.

"How did you manage to get this all in here?" Damian asked walking over to where his utility belt hung from.

"Siblings are wonderful things. Remind me to thank Cass when we see her again."

"So she was in on your plan?" Damian looked at Tim.

Tim snorted. "No, I told you, it was all me. I just requested that she help me out with this one thing and then I would owe her one down the road." He tossed over a sack to Damian.

Tim didn't really pay much attention to what Damian did with the bag after he gave it to him. It was just a pair of clothes that were actually his size and a pair of tennis shoes instead of the fancy dress shoes that he had been wearing since his funeral. Tim didn't really care if Damian changed at all. It was just a quick ride over to Gotham and the rest of their lives could go on like it had before. Tim grabbed a couple of helmets and held one out for Damian to grab.

"Let's get out of here," Tim muttered. If only to himself. That feeling of being watched was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Good, you nervous tic of muttering to yourself had been annoying."

"I haven't been muttering to myself," Tim protested, sliding a helmet down around his head.

"You wouldn't notice it of course. But it is as annoying as Grayson's singing in the shower. But that wouldn't be as bad as it is if the man knew how to hold a tune."

Tim ignored Damian's comment and started the engine of the motorcycle. He wasn't going to reply to that, even though Dick's singing in the shower wasn't the greatest. He revved the engine and waited for Damian to climb onto the bike that was there for him.

Damian started his engine and inched slowly towards the door. Tim rolled his eyes at his little brother's impatience. He wanted to get home just as badly. Put this whole nightmare behind him and forget that this ever happened. Not that that would ever really be possible, but at least he could try.

Tim let go of the brake and sped out of there with Damian hot on his heels. Tim weaved his way through the shipping containers careful not to lose sight of Damian behind him in the side mirrors.

The kid looked relaxed almost. The wind was whipping through his clothes and through his hair if he hadn't the helmet on. Tim guessed that it gave Damian a sense of control about the situation. Something that he could be in charge of and know exactly how it would come out in the end.

But he was still on edge. Something wasn't right.

He just hoped that they would both safe within the borders of the Manor before he found out just why he was feeling so.

* * *

><p>She lowered the binoculars. She climbed down from her vantage point and walked over to the car that was waiting for her. She climbed into the back seat and turned to the driver.<p>

"Go on the interstate northbound. We'll be able to cut them off before they reach Gotham City limits."

"Yes, Princess." The gas pedal was pressed down to the floor of the vehicle and the car began its progress to the highway.

Talia tapped her nails upon the side of the car. She was lost in thought. Intercepting Drake and Damian wouldn't be difficult. They would need to take back roads to avoid any police or any public eye that may detain them. An adolescent boy driving a motorcycle would raise red flags with a lot people. They sacrificed speed for stealth.

One thing still bothered her. Her son, she caught herself referring to Damian more and more as such recently, hated the older boy. Yet he continued to follow and listen to what Drake would tell him to do, with some of his usual irritability, but still obeyed. It was out of character for him. Unless.

Unless he had come to respect Drake for what he'd done. Her heart paused for a moment. Was it possible that Damian could be growing affection for his older brother? If this was the case, a wrench may have been thrown in the plans. Not a large one, but one nonetheless.

He may fight for his brother.

Talia brushed that aside. Drake wouldn't allow it. His mission was to get the boy back from the pits alive and safe to his father. He would sacrifice himself first before he would fail that objective.

She was sure of that.

* * *

><p>"Well that was a long-ass story," Jason said stretching his arms and legs.<p>

Stephanie gave a small smile. "I warned you about that."

Stephanie had sat down midway through her story on the cave. She never really looked at Jason's face as she spoke. Jason was astonished. Those two had a lot of history. It was quite amazing that they still were as good friends that they were. But as Stephanie pointed out a little earlier in her story, they hadn't exactly broken up the last time.

"So what are you going to do when they get back?" Jason asked cracking his joints. Sitting in a cubby wasn't the most comfortable place to sit.

"I'm not sure," Stephanie said wrapping her arms around herself.

_Shit, she has been through a lot. Dammit Replacement, can't you see the ripples you've caused?_ Jason thought to himself.

"Well, not that my advice is worth anything, when he gets back, tell him what you feel."

"He's changed." She muttered. Jason walked over and lifted her chin and looked into her tear filled blue eyes.

"So have you."

It was a simple fact, but Stephanie broke out into a wide smile and gave Jason a hug. Jason froze. Getting hugs from Dick was one thing; that man didn't know anything about personal boundaries, but this was different. It was a thank you. Jason hadn't been thanked in a long time.

He cleared his throat and stepped back. He opened his mouth to say something, but it shut again. Absent-mindedly he scratched the back of his head.

"The words, you're looking for are 'You're welcome'," Dick said walking into the room. Dick turned to face Stephanie.

"Oracle thinks she may have found a lead about our boys. I want you to go check it out, alright?"

Steph smiled at the thought and bounded off to retrieve the information.

Dick turned to look at his younger brother.

"Does-does that happen a lot?" He asked once his voice was back.

"Not as often as I would like, but then again being a part of this family, no one gives hugs as often as I would like them to." Dick gave a sad smile.

Jason rubbed the stubble that was growing in on his face. Did that mean that he was actually fulfilling his promise to Damian? That he was actually being a part of the family now? He didn't have very much time to think about it because in an instant Dick had his arm around Jason's throat and was rubbing a fist into his skull.

"Hey! Stop it dickhead!" Jason protested.

"Nuh-uh, little brother, take it like a man." Dick retorted. By the time Jason wrestled his way out of Dick's grasp and pinned him to the ground, he had forgotten that the last time he was called someone's little brother was before the Joker killed him. And by the time Bruce and Alfred came downstairs to remind them that there were things to be done, he had forgotten that he was a twenty-something year old wrestling on the floor with his older brother like they were kids again.

* * *

><p>Damian could see that Drake was on edge. The way that he kept glancing in the side mirrors even so often to make sure that he was still behind him. The way that he would speed up only to remember that there still was a speed limit.<p>

It was quite irritating.

That had been going on for the last eleven miles.

"When we cross the line of Gotham city limits, I want to you to pull ahead of me and go straight to the Manor, Alright?" Drake asked over the comm in the helmets.

"Tired of looking back at me every few seconds?" Damian snapped.

There was a pause before Drake answered that question. "Just promise me that you're going to make it back home safely. Do you think you can do that?"

He was trying to hide it, but Damian could tell that he was trying to hide his concern. Damian felt a small twinge inside somewhere. He didn't recognize the feeling. He filed it down later to ask someone about it. Preferably someone who wouldn't blab their mouths the moment that he turned his back.

Damian didn't respond for a while. To do what Drake asked, he would have to abandon him. And as much as he enjoyed the thought of leaving Drake behind in the dust, never to look at his ugly mug again, there was a tiny part of him that was suspicious of his motives.

"Damian?" Drake prompted.

"Yeah, fine whatever. Leave your sorry ass behind; I should have done that a while ago," Damian said finally.

Drake didn't say anything to that. And as much as he appreciated that there was silence between them, he sort of missed the bickering that they would exchange. He wondered if that was what Drake was talking about when he was talking about being dysfunctional brothers.

Damian's grip on the handles tightened. The sooner they made it home, the faster he could figure out what the hell Drake was meaning with his words.

* * *

><p>"They should be coming around that corner any moment now. Get in positions," She ordered.<p>

"Yes Princess."

From their vantage point, they could see the road curve blindly. It was the perfect vantage for a sniper or an ambush. No doubt that the Bats would have used it as a stakeout spot had it been in the city. They wouldn't be seen from the ground and there was cover from the air from the trees.

Talia would be pacing if she had been a pacing person. As it was, she wasn't and simply waited for those boys to come around the corner. It was only a mile or so from the outer perimeter of Wayne Manor. And were she more concerned about it, she would have chosen a location farther away from their destination.

The roar of motorcycles was getting louder. They were getting closer.

"Ready to fire," she ordered.

The assassin holding the rocket launcher flipped the primer and rested his finger on the trigger. He aimed down at the road below him. His aim was steady and he breathed evenly. No need for him to mess up and have wrath directed down in his direction.

"Aim for the first motorcycle," Talia said. It was a fifty/fifty chance that it would be Damian. Either way, the other would be dealt with quickly.

Two sleek black bikes came around the bend and it was difficult for her to determine who was leading the charge. Distance worked against her and they were wearing similar clothing.

"Fire."

There was a loud blast as the trigger was pulled and the rocket was launched through the air.

* * *

><p>Tim was anxious to turn this corner. Somewhere in the curve, Damian should speed up and pull ahead of Tim and head straight for home. Tim was on the outside of the curve and Damian should be passing him any time now.<p>

Tim was almost out of the curve when he saw it. He couldn't hear it; the engines were drowning out everything outside of the helmet. But there was no denying that he saw the smoke trail bearing down on him. It was aiming straight for the part of the road where he was going to be in a few seconds. He couldn't have avoided it if he wanted to. At the speeds he was going and the angle it was at, it would hit with his bike. He could try to swerve, but he couldn't tell how close Damian was behind him. So he stayed his course.

The rocket connected with the ground inches from his front tire. He closed his eyes and allowed whatever happened happen.

He could feel as he flew through the air. The moment that he and his bike connected with the ground and pinned him down, he blacked out from the pain.

But he was glad that it was him and not Damian.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh-oh. The action should be picking up in the next few chapters, and I ask you bear with me, I'm not the best at writing fight scenes. **

**'Til next time. **


	11. Chapter 10

_"I have given my word that only death will take me from you."_

_~Philippa Gregory_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Ten<span>**

Jason really needed to get out and take a break. His trigger finger was itching to go and there were no criminals out on the street that he could aim for. He half-hoped that there would be a breakout from Arkham or something similar, so for just a few minutes he could take his mind off of his younger brothers.

He landed a punch to some poor mugger's nose. He felt the nose break and blood came rushing down. He felt some satisfaction as the man was knocked unconscious, but the violence didn't solve his question.

Why did he feel so damn worried?

The obvious answer would be that they were his little brothers and little brothers needed to be protected. Of course he knew that they would protest, citing the fact that they were indeed Robin and Red Robin as reasons why they didn't need protection. But that was stupid. Damian was still killed.

He kicked the mugger in the stomach and left him in the alleyway.

The sun was setting and Jason pulled his hat down lower over his eyes. He shuffled further down the street. He really needed to find a constructive means of taking out his frustrations. More so than beating up criminals that were on the street. He could hear someone in the back of his mind telling him to talk to someone.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a can in the middle of the street.

Like he really had anyone to talk to. There was Starfire and Roy, but they were off doing their own thing at the moment, and he really couldn't talk to them about this whole issue anyway. Bruce forbade it.

So he continued walking. There was no direction to where he was going. Occasionally he would find someone on the street that needed a beating, and he would hand it out, but he still walked. Soon he found himself on the street of the police station.

_What the hell?_ He thought to himself.

He placed his domino over his eyes and shot a grappling hook up. He flew across the roofs of buildings until he landed next the bat signal. He didn't expect anyone to be up there, and was surprised when he saw Commissioner Gordon on the roof.

"Is there anything I can help with Commish?" He asked.

"God Almighty! You lot are going to give me a heart attack one day." Gordon said turning around.

Jason shrugged.

"It's Red Hood, right?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "What, your face is usually covered by a red hood. It could've been anyone," Gordon said in his defense.

Jason bit his tongue. This was a stupid idea. He should just go. He turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that this isn't my place to say, but do you need someone to talk too? I know that Robin was killed a few weeks ago, and I assume that he was related to you, a brother?"

"Something like that," Jason mumbled.

"Do you want to talk? I know that you have Nightwing, and Bats, and Red Robin, but maybe you would want to talk to someone outside the family?" Gordon dropped his hand from his shoulder. "How close were you to him?"

Jason continued to face away from the commissioner. Did he really want to talk? That's probably what his family would want him to do. But did he want to?

"I barely knew the kid actually. Nightwing was probably the one that was closest to him, and the kid hated Red's guts. But I have no idea how he'll feel once they get back."

"What?" Gordon interrupted.

_Well, shit_, Jason thought to himself.

"Wait, Red Robin is going to bring your dead brother back? Is that even possible?"

_Shit, shit, shit. Bat's is gonna kill me._

Jason turned back to face the white-haired man. Whatever he was expecting to find on his face when he turned around, wasn't there. He saw understanding instead of horror.

"What the hell's that look for?" Jason asked.

"You're family care very much for each other. That's very clear. You would do anything to keep each other safe. It's what any family would do." Gordon sat on the edge of the building.

Jason sighed. "But what if your best isn't good enough? What if you still can't protect them even when you've given your all?"

Gordon stood from his spot on the roof and walked over to Red Hood, and wrapped his arms around the taller man.

_What the fuck is this?_ Jason thought. _What is with all the people today giving me their damn hugs? Two months he wanted to throw me in Arkham, now he's giving me a hug. I will never understand people._

But Jason had to admit that the contact felt nice. For once. It wasn't an overwhelmingly tight embrace like Dick was known for, or the professional hand on the shoulder Bruce gave out rarely. It was only a moment before Jason grabbed Gordon's hands and pulled out of his embrace.

Jason held up a finger and started to back away from the Commissioner. This encounter didn't really help at all. Now he really needed to beat someone up. He shot off a grappling hook and swung away from sight.

"Good luck Jason," the commissioner murmured before going back inside.

* * *

><p>Damian would deny from the moment that someone opened their mouths that he screamed at the sight of Drake's motorcycle flying through the air. But he did. He was so distracted by the sight that he lost balance to his own vehicle and landed on his leg. Damian could feel something give in his knee, but he could care less.<p>

He pushed the bike off of him and limped, really over to the wreckage of Drake's bike. Fire was burning and smoke was filling the air. Damian coughed.

"Drake?" He called. Where was the idiot? He couldn't have gotten far, not with the amount of air that he had caught.

He limped closer to the wreckage. Just faintly through the flames and smoke, he could see a figure underneath the burning bike. Damian raced as fast as he could to the sight. The heat was intense. The fire was still not close enough to burn Damian or Tim, but it was coming closer. Damian tried pulling Drake's body out from under the wreck, but a pained groan escaped from Drake. The damn boy's legs were pinned under the bike.

Using all the strength that he had, Damian pushed the bike off of Drake and dragged him away from the burning husk. Drake weighed lighter than Damian would have guessed. He wasn't very large to begin with, but he must have been underfed. He pulled off Drake's helmet and tossed it to the side.

"Drake? Drake wake up!" Damian slapped Drake's cheek. There was no response.

"Drake! I demand you wake up! Dr-Tim!" Damian shouted shaking him.

Drake's eyes fluttered for a moment and he gazed up at Damian unfocused. Damian looked up and down his body for injuries. Both legs were broken, most likely crushed from the bike landing on them. His face was mostly undamaged; the helmet had done its job. A long cut ran along the hairline. There was road rash up and down his body. There was no telling how many internal injuries that Drake possessed.

"Damian?" He coughed. Blood speckled his lips. Internal bleeding. "What are you doing? Get outta here."

"What? I can-." Damian was a little taken aback.

"GO. The important thing is you. I-… never-… was."

His voice was weak, but was clear. His eyes weren't focused on anything, except maybe the stars that were beginning to peak out from the night sky. Tears slipped out of the corners of Tim's eyes. Damian doubted that Tim was aware of it.

Damian gently rested Tim's head on the ground and limped back to his own bike. He righted the vehicle and gave one look back to Drake lying on the ground. Something inside told him to go back. He climbed on and sped away.

_I'll be back. I swear. _

* * *

><p>Talia allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she raised her binoculars to her eyes. There was one less variable to take care of. She refocused the lenses on the body lying on the ground. She had watched as other brother pulled him from the wreckage before speeding away, presumably at the insistence at the injured one.<p>

Timothy. From the looks of that blood pool that was beginning to encircle around his body, it was likely that he wouldn't live very much longer.

Talia raised a walkie-talkie to her lips. "Squad Two, be prepared. Target One is approaching your destination. Engage when in range."

_"Roger."_

Talia handed the walkie-talkie off to one of her assistants in the area. She continued her gaze down at Drake, bleeding out on the road.

She snapped her fingers and an attendant stood at attention by her side.

"Remove anything that might possibly give the police any identification to who he is. We don't need to be breaking news, not that it would hinder our ability to get out of the country undetected. I'd be more concerned with the boy's father. Now go."

The assassin nodded once before taking off towards the road below.

"Ready my jet. We head back immediately."

"Yes, Princess."

With the boy eliminated from the equation, there would be no problem for her operative to retrieve Damian. The boy may put up a fight, but the odds were against him. He had injured himself when he tried to stop to pull out Drake. He had recently been raised from the pits and if her informant was correct, had eaten very little food in the past few days. He would be no issue to take down and return home with. Then he could begin the reconditioning process.

* * *

><p>Tim knew he was dying. He could feel it. The puddle of blood was growing along the side of his body, warm to the touch. He didn't try to move to stop the bleeding. His ribs were broken and so were parts of his hip. If he lived, it was almost guaranteed that he would have to hang up the cape. But he wasn't going to live.<p>

He didn't hear the footsteps. He didn't know that there was even someone near him until he felt hands digging through his pockets. His first instinct was to fight, but he couldn't move.

They were searching for identification. Tim only had his wallet on him. He had slipped the memory card into Damian's pocket while he wasn't paying attention. There were messages that needed to get to the right people and he trusted Damian to at least get the card to someone who would get them to the right people.

Those were words he didn't think he would ever think or say. He trusted Damian.

The presence reseeded and Tim was left alone again, without any identification for when the authorities would come and bring his dead ass to the morgue. He would have closed his eyes to wait, but they were already shut. Swelling. He thought. It was harder to think about anything now.

"Good-b-bye," he whispered to no one in particular. The last words no one would hear. To his friends, family, everyone.

_Goodbye. _

* * *

><p>Damian was speeding. Not that they hadn't been when it was him and Drake. But he needed to get back to the house and grab someone so they could back and save Drake.<p>

Not that it really mattered. It was to repay a debt is all. Drake returned him to this life; it was only just that he returned the favor. There was nothing more to it. And if there was, he would deny it vehemently.

The last few miles to get to the manor went along without anyone coming along and trying to blow him up as well. Until he got to the gates of the manor that is. No one tried to blow him up, but there was an unwelcome face standing there waiting for him.

The Heretic. His clone. His _'brother'_.

Damian slowed his bike to a stop and stared at the clone. It was clear that he wasn't going to let Damian pass without a fight. Fine. Damian was itching to seriously maim something. Too bad he didn't have his katanas.

"Brother, how I looked forward to this encounter. Our last one ended much too quickly for my liking. Maybe this time you won't be so inept," It said.

Damian pulled his utility belt out from under Drake's shirt. Drake had given him clothes that would have fit him better, but he hadn't wanted his charity. He felt around on the vehicle. Drake would have hid some toys around on the vehicle all over. He didn't like to feel unprepared anywhere.

His hand bumped into something. He grabbed it.

"You're in my way," Damian growled.

The Heretic said nothing.

"Get out of my way, or I'll break you." Damian gripped the item in his hand tighter.

The Heretic made no indication that he was going to move.

"Very well, prepare yourself for death."

* * *

><p>"No, we're not supposed to even be on this road! You were supposed to take a left on the interstate, not turn right into the middle of nowhere! Oaf!" His wife complained as he turned along the corners of the road.<p>

He sighed. This happened every single time that they went on any type of road trip together. Kate was the ultimate backseat driver. You would think after twenty years of marriage, he would have gotten used to it.

"Is that smoke ahead?"

He was jerked out of his thoughts and looked out of the front window. Sure enough, there was black smoke billowing out from behind some of the trees ahead of them.

"What do you think happened?" Kate turned to him with a concern look on her face, every thought about going to wrong way escaped out of her mind.

"I'm not sure, but I think we'll find out."

They turned around one corner and there was the source of the smoke. A motorcycle was on fire.

"Oh my God." Kate said as her husband began to slow down.

"Call the police," he told his wife as the car stopped rolling and he leapt out to see if there was anyone hurt.

He couldn't get to close to the actual wreck, the heat was too great. There would be no rescue for anyone if they were trapped anywhere near there. He shielded his face and ran around to the other end of the wreck to see if someone had managed to crawl away.

"Oh god. KATE, call for an ambulance! NOW!" He shouted over the fire. He rushed to the poor soul's side. "Can you hear me son? Give me a sign that you understand me."

The kid didn't answer.

The kid's helmet was sitting the ground next to him and his forehead was bleeding badly. The kid's legs were broken and it was unlikely that he had dragged himself out from the wreckage. Someone must have been with him. But where were they now?

He pushed that question out of his head when he noticed that the kid wasn't breathing. He reached out and took a pulse. There was none.

"Dammit kid, you're too young to die."

His military training kicked in and bent down over the kid. He began to perform CPR. Compressions. Breathe. Compressions. Breathe.

"The police are on their way, an ambulance too. Why would –Oh my GOD!" Kate shouted as she came around to her husband. She started retching on the side of the road. She never could take the sight of blood well; even it was only a paper cut.

He continued to perform CPR until the ambulance and the police came and took over. He stood by his wife as he watched them load the kid into the ambulance. She was sobbing still, and he stood silently.

They still hadn't heard the kid's heart beat even after they used the paddles.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I realize that people might not be happy with the way I've lead this. It's all a part of the plan. Trust me. And I do personally think that Gordon would know about their secret identities, I mean c'mon, he's a detective. But he wouldn't tell anyone, cause he knows that they're good guys. **


	12. Chapter 11

_ Why do men fight who were born to be brothers?_

_~James Longstreet_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Eleven<span>**

Damian grit his teeth. He was going to kill his_ 'brother'_. He whipped the staff only to have it blocked by his opponent.

"You are not well versed with the Bo. What makes you think that you will stand a chance if you have not mastered your weapon?" The Heretic said with a small cackle.

Damian gave a roar of anger and leapt at his adversary. The Heretic simply punched Damian in the face and Damian fell backwards. He landed harshly on his feet, his knee buckling underneath him.

"You are injured. This will take no time at all. After I finish you here, I will go and attend to the other that you left behind. His time is limited already. It was as such when he decided to return your soul to its body."

Damian clenched his teeth tightly. He needed to shut out this nuisance speech. He couldn't allow for this clone to distract him. He had to fulfill his mission, he had to. Drake was bleeding out and if he didn't get back in time his death would be on his hands. Grayson and Father would never accept him if that happened.

But the Heretic was correct. He wasn't well adjusted to Drake's weapon of choice. A sissy stick in his opinion, but it needed to work for him. His adrenaline began to pump into his system.

The Heretic withdrew a knife from one of the many pockets that he had. He held it out, but made no moves to attack.

"My orders are to take you to Mother. Do not make this harder on yourself, brother."

Damian took a batarang from the utility belt. The edges were sharp enough to cut flesh. Not that that was what his father had intended for it to be, there were ropes that needed to be cut with them, but to hell with intended uses. Blood was going to be spilt.

He threw the batarang and swung the staff. The batarang was blocked, but the staff connected with his throat. The Heretic let out a choking noise as his air was cut off. Using the opportunity, Damian planted the staff and used it as a spring board to launch his feet into the chest of his opponent. Damian held back a wince when his injured leg connected.

The Heretic fell back to the ground, Damian poised above him, staff's end at his throat.

"Any last words, before I end your miserable life?" Damian growled.

The Heretic shifted underneath Damian. The clone smirked behind his mask.

"How does it feel to be the reason why your rescuer is dead?" He asked.

Damian narrowed his eyes. No, he was going to be back for Drake. He had promised. Even if only to himself. A debt needed to be repaid.

Damian used as much force as he could and slammed the staff into the side of the Heretic's head. He was knocked out. No, he wasn't going to be the reason why Drake dies. At least not at this time. Damian was going to kill Drake if he died, before he could get help back to him.

Damian took one of the knives from his defeated opponent and held it to his throat. He pressed the blade closer when he heard a voice in the back of his head.

_He's out. Go._

Sneering at the truth behind the voice, he dropped the knife and stepped away from the body. Only then did he realize what he'd done. The fight had taken too long. Even if they made it back to the crash site, there wouldn't be enough time to do anything about it.

He'd condemned his brother to death.

Damian leaned heavily against the staff. All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through him was gone and he felt weary. His knee throbbed. He looked down. A small knife was plunged into his skin.

"Damn."

* * *

><p>Oracle was busy. She barely had the time to rest. She couldn't remember another time where she was as exhausted. Well, she probably did, but her brain was so addled with caffeine and sleep deprivation, it was a wonder why she hadn't passed out yet.<p>

She leaned over to look at one of her various computer screens. Nothing. Barbara let out an irritated huff and took off her glasses to rub her tired eyes. A crackle was heard over her headset. She raised her hand.

"O here," she said.

"The boys aren't here," Stephanie answered.

Barbara closed her eyes. So much for her lead.

"But there was something interesting that I managed to eavesdrop."

"What would that be?" Her fingers started to rapidly tap on the computer keyboard. There had to be something out there for her to trace. Tim may know how to cover his tracks, but not all of those that he came in contact with couldn't possibly have the technology or the knowhow to cover those tracks like him.

"There was anonymous tip about the smuggling ship. They tried tracing the call, but the funny thing they said was that it seemed to originate from the boat."

"Why would anyone on a smuggling ship call in?" Barbara's attention was half on her bed in the other room.

"That's not all; those that were arrested said that there were two male refugees that managed to get away before the police came. One of the smugglers was trying to give a description on one of them. And the _description matched Tim_. O, I think that they made it back to the States!"

"What was the description?" Her bed was forgotten.

"Um, black hair blue eyes, not to overly tall. There wasn't much else I could get, before I had the chance to interrogate him, the police took him to the station."

"That could match anyone Steph."

"I know, it's just, I want them to come back home, safe and sound."

"We all do."

The police scanner that sat in her room started to crackle wildly about something. Barbara reached over and turned up the radio.

"-Suspicious single vehicle crash out on county road. Request investigative unit. EMS is already en-route to Gotham Mercy General."

"Identification?"

"None to be found on him. Likely a passersby pickpocketed it without calling it in."

"What rose flags?"

"It looks like a small bomb blew on the road. There's something more behind this accident, I know it."

Barbara ran her fingers through her red hair. She really needed to wash it. But if this was what she thought that it could be, then someone needed to get over to the hospital quickly. Forget any sort of personal hygiene.

"Steph, I need to get back to Gotham as soon as you possibly can and meet me outside Gotham Mercy General."

"You _found_ them?" Steph screeched. Barbara jumped a little and pulled the earpiece out for a moment.

"Just meet me outside the building," Barbara said before signing off and wheeling away. She glanced back at the electronic wiring and monitors. She allowed a half a hope to well up inside her.

She could get her family back. They could be whole again. She could get some sleep. Everyone could get some sleep. She grabbed one of Dick's hats that was lying around and pulled it over her greasy hair. She could make herself pretty later, her brother needed her.

* * *

><p>Damian had pulled the knife out earlier. That was the dumbest idea he could have done. Now he was going to bleed out faster and end up like Drake.<p>

No. He wasn't. He was strong. Raised by assassins. Trained by Batman and Nightwing. He would make it down the damned driveway.

Why was it so long?

He held onto the staff. He had kept it in case there were any more secret ninjas that decided to jump out and attack him. But as he travelled further and further down the road, it was clear he was in no condition to be fighting and the staff was only there to hold him up. Every breathe hurt and his leg couldn't support his weight any more. It had to have been the kick. Blood was slipping from between his fingertips and dripped down his shirt onto the ground as he walked.

A part of him wondered what he was going to say when he reached the door. It wouldn't matter, if he never got there to begin with.

He shuffled a little faster.

* * *

><p>Dick was leaning on the counter in the kitchen and played with his phone. He was expecting a call from his fiancée any moment. She promised to call after Stephanie had investigated the possible lead that she had found. He hadn't heard back yet. But it hadn't been too long. And yet it had been.<p>

His phone gave a little beep indicating that he had a new text message. Quickly he swiped his phone open and read it.

_I'm heading over to the hospital with Steph. There's something that I need to check out. Love you, Babs. _

The hospital? Dick felt his heart rate pick up a little bit. Was his brother's back in the states? Were they injured? God, what if one of them was dying?

The doorbell interrupted his endless parade of questions. He got up and walked to the front door. No one was expecting anyone. The public wasn't even aware that he and Jason had even been there the past few days, or had it been the past week. Time was screwing with his head.

He opened the front door and looked out into the yard. There was no one there.

_Odd, I didn't think that ding-dong ditchers could get on Bruce's property,_ Dick thought to himself. He began to go back inside.

"Di-ick."

Dick's heart stopped. He stared down at the steps. His brain for a moment spluttered. It couldn't be. But it was. It really was.

"Little D?" He asked.

The boy was in bad shape. He was bleeding all over the stoop and there was a large bandage on his head. It looked old and it was obviously wrapped by someone with experience. His knee was swollen and discolored.

It only took him a moment to gather Damian in his arms and carry him into the house. He was careful of the stab wound in his side and his head, but rushed towards the Batcave screaming.

"Bruce! Alfred! I need medical attention, STAT!"

The door to the basement level opened and he ran down the stairs without waiting for a reply. He looked down at Damian and saw that his eyes were closed.

"Dami, wake up buddy, c'mon, don't go to sleep." Damian didn't respond. "BRUCE!"

He stopped in the middle of the Batcave floor looking for his adoptive father.

Bruce came running from the stairs and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw just who was being held in Dick's arms. It was only a hairsbreadth before he had taken his little boy from Dick's arms and set him on the medical table. He began to press against his side. Alfred rushed past Dick and began to telling Bruce what needed to be done.

"Master Dick, I need you to grab that gauze over there. Master Dick? RICHARD!"

Dick finally tore his eyes from the small boy on the table.

"The gauze, Master Dick if you please."

"Oh, right," Dick rummaged through the drawers looking for the clean gauze. He finally gripped it and set it near where his family was working.

"Dick," Bruce said looking up at his son. "Call the others. Tell them about Damian. Call in to the hospitals and police stations, see if anyone has seen Tim. If Damian's hurt, then it's likely that Tim didn't escape scotch free. Go."

Dick spun on his feet and ran upstairs to find his phone. He got up to the kitchen and fumbled around with his phone. It slipped from his hands due to the blood. He realized then just what had happened. Tim and Damian had almost made it home before they had been attacked. He started crying. Tears of happiness, tears of sorrow, tears of exhaustion, tears of worry. He stared down at his hands.

They were red. With his baby brother's blood.

_Where was Timmy? _

He wasn't aware of how long he'd been standing staring at his hands when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Dick," Bruce said softly.

Dick spun around and hugged Bruce tightly, not worrying about blood; it was on both of them. He cried into Bruce's shoulder. He felt Bruce's arms wrap around him as well. It wasn't a tight grip. But it was there and reassuring.

"Damian's going to be fine, Alfred's working on him. He's going to be fine."

"But Tim's out there alone," Dick murmured into his father's shirt.

"Tim'll be fine. He's a brilliant kid remember? He'll make it back."

Dick sniffled. He always did seem to come back. But in how many pieces? He'd already lost his spleen and was susceptible to infections more easily. If he was injured as badly, or worse, than Damian and didn't get to a hospital quick enough, there was the possibility that an infection could kill him. If he didn't bleed out first.

_Oh, God. Where is he?_

* * *

><p>Talia was furious. They had failed to retrieve her son. <em>Bang<em>. The Heretic had failed where he didn't last time and Damian made it to his father. _Bang_. When they went back to collect Drake's body it was gone and the police were there investigating. _Bang_. That last one wasn't terribly bad, but she had underestimated the amount of time that it would take for people to find the wreck.

Three bodies lay on the ground and she tossed her gun on top of them.

The worst news of this yet. She had to explain this mess to her father.

"Princess, it would be easy to infiltrate whichever hospital they have Drake and finish the job," one of her lieutenants offered.

"NO. He is in the protected zone of the Bat. Do not waste resources which nature itself will handle."

"Pardon?" He asked.

"Drake is missing a spleen. With no medical records as a John Doe, it will take time to figure out what is needed to treat him. Giving plenty of time for an infection to set in. Do not fret. Even if he manages to survive, he will be of no threat. Such injuries could end a crime fighting career. "

Her lieutenant nodded and continued with his work. Talia boarded her plane and prepared to organize what she was going to say to her father to explain this mess.

"Talia."

She froze. "Father. What brings your presence to my private jet?" She knew the reason. She wasn't surprised that he had followed her. She had just hoped for a little time to organize her thoughts.

"You know. We have much to discuss about your behavior and handling of this situation." He didn't even look up from his wine.

Talia inhaled through her nose. This was going to be a long ride back. And it wasn't going to end well.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize if any fight scene lacked in any way, I haven't quite mastered that skill yet.**


	13. Chapter 12

_Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero. _

_~Unknown_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Twelve<span>**

Stephanie drove to Gotham Mercy General as quickly as she could. She ditched the suit in Blüdhaven, Batgirl couldn't show up at the hospital in daylight. Granted the sun was going down, but Barbara said to meet in front, so it was safe to assume that civvies were preferred.

Her heart was going fast as she neared the hospital. Did Barbara find one of her boys? Their boys? Did something serious happen to them? Was one of them dying? Was it Tim?

She looked up and slammed on the brakes of her vehicle. Just in time. Traffic going the opposite way had picked up and she would have been crushed had she continued past the red light.

_Damn, I gotta be more careful. _

She carefully continued her way to the hospital. A bit over the speed limit, but she needed to get there.

She parked her vehicle and practically ran to the doors where Barbara was. Steph noticed that she was wearing one of Dick's caps and was fiddling constantly with her clothes. Steph reached out and gripped one of Barbara's hands. She gave what she hoped was a convincing smile.

"Shall we go in?"

Barbara bit her lip and began to roll her wheelchair across the pavement and into the building. The ER was busy and it took a while before they could get a nurse or anyone to stop and talk with them.

"Is there anything that I could help you two with?" The nurse asked looking down at her clipboard.

"Yes, we were wondering about the John Doe that was brought in earlier this evening?"

"Are you related?" The nurse asked not really thinking about the question

"No, but the thing is that-" Stephanie started to explain.

"Sorry, he's in surgery. And until the family gives permission, information about the patient cannot be released." The nurse turned on her heel and walked away.

Stephanie huffed. "Well, that was extremely helpful. I don't even think she was listening to a word that we said. Do you think that BG could take a peak and see if it is our missing boys are in here?" Stephanie was tempted to just that.

"No."

"What? I could-"

"No." Barbara was firm on this. "We'll wait here in the lobby for any information that we can obtain. He's in surgery. We wouldn't be able to get a good look anyway." Barbara didn't too happy.

A phone began to ring and it was a moment before she realized that it was Barbara's phone that was ringing. Babs made no move to answer it. Steph reached into her bag and pulled out Babs' high tech phone. For a moment she marveled at the sight of it. She had a model that was at least a few years old. She read the caller.

"Um, Babs? Your phone would like your attention. Your fiancé would like to speak with you."

Barbara held out her hand and Steph obediently placed it in her hand and stood by as she heard a one ended conversation.

"Dick, I'm at the hospital. There's a John Doe here that I think-" She paused listening. Whatever it was, her face scrunched up and she rubbed her hand over her face. "Yeah, yeah, I'll tell her," again she paused. "I know. Take care of yourselves there, you hear me? I expect my fiancé to be there for me when I come back. Love you, bye."

Barbara ended the call and folded her hands around the phone. She rested her head on her hands, like she was praying.

"Barbara?" Steph was almost afraid to ask what was going on.

"That was Dick."

Stephanie resisted the urge to say duh.

"Damian managed to find his way back to the Manor. But he was beat up pretty badly. He had suffered a stab wound to the abdomen and was bleeding out among other injuries. It looked like he was ambushed on his way home." Finally Barbara looked up and there were tears in her eyes.

"Stephanie, in all likelihood, the John Doe in there is Tim."

Stephanie's chest seized. Tim? She stood and started walking towards the doors in a daze. Barbara grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Steph turned around and tears were spilling over Barbara's cheeks. That was all it took and the waterworks escaped from Steph's eyes. She dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around the redhead. They held each other for dear life when a small nurse approached them.

"Excuse me? May I help you?"

Stephanie wiped her tears and looked at the nurse. She was an older woman and had been there a long time.

"There was a John Doe that came in earlier this evening. We think that it might be," Stephanie awkwardly searched for the right word, "her brother-in-law in there, but no one will give us information."

The nurse pursed her lips at the young women. She understood.

"I can tell you he's in critical condition. I'm not at liberty to say much more than that. But," she added conspiratorially. "The operating room that they are in has an upstairs viewing area for the students. If you promise not to say I could let one of you in to verify."

Steph stood and immediately started walking. Only when she realized that it was just her moving she looked back.

"Please?" She asked.

The nurse nodded and led Stephanie down the hallway. Steph could hear her own heart beating loudly in her chest. What if it wasn't Tim? What if it _was_? Why didn't she let Barbara check?

She approached the window of the observation room cautiously. It was hard to see just who was on the table. There were a large amount of people crowded around the operating table. Bloodied gauze was piling up on a table nearby.

She couldn't see his face. She was getting nearer to the glass trying to see. Finally a doctor moved his fat ass and she could see his face. The head was heavily bandaged, and there was a breathing tube down his throat, but there was no mistaking that face.

Stephanie reached out and touched the glass.

"Is it him?" The nurse asked.

"Y-Yeah. That's him. That's Tim," Stephanie whispered.

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry."

There was suddenly a flat line tone coming from the room.

"We're losing him again! Charge the paddles!" One of the doctors called.

Steph's tears started to fall again and she began to openly sob. The kind old nurse gently wrapped her arms around Stephanie and led her out of the room back to Barbara. Barbara didn't need to ask who it was. The look that the nurse had and Steph's reaction was all it took to know.

"Oh, God."

* * *

><p>Jason was surprised that his phone began to ring. Not many people called him. He was more surprised that he had his phone on him to begin with actually.<p>

He looked at the caller id. _Golden_ _Boy_. If Dick was calling now, something big must have happened.

"Y'ello what's up?" He said.

"Jason you need to come home now." Dick's voice was stony. It never was before and shouldn't be.

"What's happened?"

"Damian. He came back to the manor. I wouldn't have noticed him but he called me my first name. He was in pretty rough shape, but Alfred thinks that he's going to be alright."

"When? What about the Replacement?" Jason asked.

He could practically hear Dick's wince.

"An hour or so ago. But Tim's not here. Babs and Stephanie think that they have a lead, but it could be anything at this point. There's evidence to suggest that there was an attack."

Jason closed his eyes and breathed deeply. If there was an attack and Damian was in rough shape, then what type of shape would Tim be in? He looked out at the setting sun and grit his teeth.

"I'll be there in a little bit. Just let me find a criminal to beat up for the night."

"He should be waking up any time now. Bruce wants you to be there when he does."

"He does?!" Jason nearly dropped the phone.

"You're a part of this family. Of course he does. Now get your ass over here, before Alfred gets involved."

Jason shuddered. "Yeah, I'll be there." He ended the call and shot off a grappling hook into the city streets. He took the leap into the air and felt the wind rush through his hair. One of the things that he sort of missed with the hood that he wore.

He got to the manor and went down stairs immediately. He walked straight into the medical bay and there he was. The little demon brat was sleeping on the bed. Dick was resting on a chair next to the bed and Bruce was on the other side.

They both looked back at him before looking back to the sleeping boy.

"How can we be sure that it's him?" He asked. Not that he wasn't happy that the brat made his way home, but it was never a bad idea to be cautious.

"DNA says it's him."

"DNA can be cloned. Didn't you say that he said your first name? The Demon we knew would never address you, or us, as such," Jason retorted. His eyes narrowed. This didn't sound like the kid he had known.

"Why don't you just ask him? He's awake now," Bruce said interrupting his oldest two's conversation.

Jason looked down at the kid. He had blinked a couple of times. Something about this didn't feel right.

"Fa-" his voice cracked. Dick was quick to give the kid water. After he took a few sips he turned back to Bruce. "Father, what happened?"

"You suffered a concussion, a stab wound to your left side, narrowly missing your left lung, your knee was fractured and you lost a great deal of blood. You're lucky to even be alive," Bruce answered.

No one really said anything after that. Jason looked down at his feet. There were a lot of questions that he wanted answered. He heard Alfred's shoes walk in the room and stop a few feet into the room.

"Yes, Alfred?" Bruce asked turning around.

"That was the third time I have tried to contact Master Timothy within the past few hours, Master Bruce. There is still no answer on the other end."

"Little D? What's wrong? Does this have anything to do with Tim?"

Jason looked up with surprise at the brat on the bed. There was a look in those eyes that he had never seen before. Guilt. He should know. He'd seen it on his own face quite a few times.

"Damian?" Bruce pressed. "What do you know about Tim that you're not telling us?"

Jason watched as Damian connected with each man in the room. Whatever Damian was hiding, it would affect each and every one of them. Jason didn't like where this was going.

"He's dead," he finally croaked out. Tears escaped down the kid's face. Jason didn't think that the kid even knew how to cry.

"I killed him."

For a moment Jason's mind went empty with a quiet rage before he managed to lock in the back of his mind. After everything the Replacement did for him. This kid had three minutes to explain everything to him, or he wouldn't hold back. His hands tightened on his leather jacket.

* * *

><p>"I killed him."<p>

The air was silent. The only noise was the heart monitor and water dripping deep in the cave somewhere.

"How did you kill him?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice low.

Damian turned his head away. Bruce reached out and held Damian's shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. A tear slipped down his son's cheek. His other hand reached out and wiped it away.

"Damian. Son, what happened?"

Damian turned his red eyes toward his father.

"My mother chased us across the globe. She finally caught up with us on that small county road between Gotham and Blüdhaven. She launched a rocket at us. Drake was ahead of me and demanded that I leave him behind. He was injured, he'd crushed his legs and there had to be some internal bleeding. I was going to back with you to save his sorry hide. But the Heretic detained me long enough to condemn him."

"It's my fault. I wasn't good enough. It's my fault."

"No Damian, it's not your fault," Dick interrupted. "Tim understood what he was doing. He wanted to get you back home to us."

"Why?"

"You're his brother. You do anything for family," Dick answered.

"That makes no sense."

"It's not supposed to," Jason interjected. "You told yourself you would go back after you made it to us. Would you have done that a year ago?"

He wouldn't have. They all knew it. A year ago Damian was still trying to kill Tim. Bruce clenched his teeth at the memory. He watched as his eldest reached out and gathered his littlest brother into a hug. He was surprised when Damian allowed it and didn't protest it. Bruce chalked it up to the trauma that he had just endured.

Rage boiled inside of Bruce. These were _his_ kids that she was attacking. _His_. They were supposed to be protected under his wings, so to say. He may have strained relations with them, but they were his kids and he would go through hell for them. For Dick the happy spark that managed to hold his whole family together as one. For Jason, who was still the kid underneath looking for the way into his father's heart, even though he already had a place. For Tim, with his inferiority complex and good heart. For Damian, with his only biological son and superiority complex.

They were all his sons and they all belonged here.

Bruce stood and marched right out of the room.

"Where'ya going Bruce?" Dick called out. His grip on his littlest brother loosened.

"I'm going to find my other son." He slammed the door on his way up the stairs to the manor. He didn't wait for the others to follow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there are only four more chapters after this one. And I was thinking about updating it twice a week now. I just want your opinion if that would be something that you'd interested in. **


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

The county road had more traffic on it than it had seen in probably years. Once the interstate had been built with a faster way to reach between the cities, the leisurely winding road was all but forgotten.

Bruce's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. If his son was… No. He wouldn't be. Tim was resourceful. He would be the one to figure out what to do. He would.

He couldn't lose another one of his sons. He couldn't.

There were too many police cars at the site of the crash for his liking. He pulled over to the side of the road and ran to the tape barricading the rest of the world from the scene. He didn't think and flipped the tape and began to walk towards the wreckage.

"Sir! Sir, you can't be on this side of the tape!" One of the officers shouted when they looked up from their notes.

A few officers came and attempted to lead him back out behind the tape. Bruce struggled against them, but didn't really try. He had caught a glimpse of a blood pool behind the smoking bike. A part of the fight that was in him died. That was his son's blood spilt on the ground.

"Sir, what were you thinking?" One officer asked him.

"My son. That was my son," he murmured. If he was broken inside already, he was shattered now.

The officer called over one of his superiors.

"Mr. Wayne?! What are you doing here?" His superior exclaimed when he made it over.

"He says that the kid was his."

The other officer nodded and looked to Bruce. "Do you happen to have a picture of your son that we could have a look at to confirm this? He had no id on his person at the time."

Bruce fumbled to get his phone and wallet out. He knew that most parents had images of their kids in their wallets. He didn't have any that he knew of, but he never knew what Alfred slipped in there when he wasn't looking. He rummaged through it and was surprised to see that there was indeed a small image of Tim. Of all of his boys actually.

He pulled out Tim's photo and handed it to the officer.

"It may be out of date, but that's Tim."

The officer looked at the image, adjusting it for age, and possibly whatever happened to him before his mouth was set in a grim line.

"That's the kid. I'm so sorry Mr. Wayne," he said handing back the photo.

"Where is my son?" Bruce asked.

"Mr. Wayne," the officer began.

"Where is my son?" Bruce asked again with a bit more of the Batman creeping into his voice.

"Gotham Mercy General. Hey!"

Bruce was off running towards his car. He could let the police handle the investigation. They wouldn't get anywhere with it. He knew that. Talia was far too clever to allow the police force to find out that it was her. But he knew, and that was what mattered. And his son.

He was dialing his phone for the manor as his engine started up. Why they even had a home phone still confused him still, but they did.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up. Come on." He muttered to himself as he started speeding towards the city.

"Wayne residence, this is Alfred speaking."

"Alfred! I need you to gather the boys and tell them to meet me at Gotham Mercy General. I know where Tim is. Make sure that they bring Damian. I doubt that his mother is anywhere in the area still, but I want him under some surveillance until I have a chat with his mother."

"Understood, Master Wayne."

Bruce hung up and continued his drive to the hospital. He only hoped that his son was hanging on.

* * *

><p>There was a sense of dread as Alfred walked down towards where the boys were still located. As glad as he was that Bruce had found his son, he was concerned. What would be waiting for him, for them when they got to the hospital?<p>

The mood was somber in the little medical bay they had. No one was speaking. Alfred was afraid to break the silence.

"Alfred? What's going on? You've got that serious look on your face," Dick asked.

"He's always got that serious look on his face. He's Alfred," Jason muttered.

Alfred gave him one of his looks telling him that his humor wasn't appreciated. He turned back to Dick and Damian.

"Master Bruce believes that he's-"

"-Found Tim. I know. Barbara called while you were upstairs. She and Stephanie are outside the operating room waiting for Tim's surgery to be over. It," Dick breathed. "It doesn't look very good."

"Then I suggest that we move ourselves and get on our way to the hospital. Your father wishes that we meet him there."

Everyone got up and started moving. Dick was almost to the door when he noticed that Damian hadn't moved.

"You coming Little D?"

Damian leaned back in the bad. "No."

"Your father explicitly told me that you were not to be left alone for the time being. So whether or not that you wish to come, you will be." Alfred stated.

There was a moment of surprise and relief that flashed across Damian's face before he started to move out from under the covers. He moved slowly as to not pop any of his stitches.

"I could handle myself if anyone was stupid enough to attack me in my father's home," Damian grumbled.

Alfred took a deep breath.

"It's your father's wishes. He would feel better if you remained within one of our sights."

Damian continued to walk out behind his brothers with his little limp that he had. He tried to hide it. Alfred followed closely behind in case the lad needed any help. Not that he would ask for it. He was too much like his father for that.

Only Dick was waiting for Alfred and Damian when they got up to the garage.

"Where's Master Jason?" Alfred asked opening the door for Damian.

"He said, and I quote, 'fuck this shit' and took off on his motorcycle."

Alfred gave a little frown. He was hoping that they all could have ridden to the hospital together. But Jason was his own man and he could do what he wished. It didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

They piled into the car and started their drive towards the hospital. About halfway there Dick reached out and turned on the radio, claiming he couldn't take the silence anymore. The radio crackled.

"In other news, a single vehicle crash involving a motorcycle happened on the old county road. One person was injured critically, but the identity of the injured hasn't been released to the press at the moment."

Dick was quick to turn off the radio. "Maybe silence is better."

"Perhaps you're right, Master Dick," Alfred commented having watched Damian's face as the broadcast had been speaking. The lad would deny it if anyone came to him and brought it up, but he was definitely getting paler with every word that was being said about Tim.

_The boy does care for his older brothers. Thank heavens_, Alfred thought.

There was a minimal media presence outside the hospital when they arrived there. They spotted Jason's bike midst the other bikes. Dick helped Damian out of the car, despite his grumblings and stopped him before he could really walk away.

"We need a cover story for you. You're limp is kind of a dead giveaway that something happened."

Damian narrowed his eyes at his older brother. "I injured myself skydiving."

He shook Dick's hands from his shoulders and walked as purposefully away as he could with his limp. He walked right towards the hospital doors.

"Is he old enough to actually be skydiving?" Dick asked watching him.

Alfred shook his head. He started to follow the young master.

"What did Miss Barbara say about Tim's condition?" Alfred asked Dick once he'd caught up with him, but they were still far enough away from Damian that he wouldn't overhear.

"It's not looking good like I said. Babs said a nurse offered to take them to an overlooking room to see if they could identify him. It was Tim, but they lost him on the table for a bit. Steph was distraught about it. They got him back, but they're not sure if he'll survive the surgery. And if he does, they're not really sure that he'll wake up."

Alfred pursed his lips. That wasn't a good predicament at all. He prayed that Tim would find the strength to wake up again.

* * *

><p>Barbara was still holding onto Stephanie. The girl's crying had stopped, but a few tears still managed to drip down her cheeks. Babs wiped her hair back from her face.<p>

"He's gonna be alright."

"He died. Right in front of me. He died." She murmured.

Babs sighed. That had been her response for the past hour. The automatic doors whirred open and Babs looked up.

"Bruce!" She called.

Bruce turned surprised at the sound of his name. He quickly walked over.

"How?" He asked.

"It was my lead. I was right." Steph moved her head quickly from Babs lap and attempted to wipe her tears away. The motion didn't escape Bruce.

"How is he?"

Barbara was opening her mouth to answer him when the doors whooshed open again and in came Jason, Dick, Damian, and Alfred. Stephanie stood quickly and wrapped Damian in a hug.

"Geroff me woman! I do not need your sympathy!" Damian shouted pushing against her.

She let go a bit reluctantly, but sat back down on the sofa. Her eyes remained on Damian, but every once and a while they would dart to the door where Tim was behind. Dick took a seat next to her and wrapped an arm around her. Jason sat on the back of the sofa much to the disapproval of Alfred. He stood right beside Damian, hand rested on his shoulder.

Bruce turned back to Barbara.

"It doesn't look good Bruce. I can't tell you the prognosis, but it doesn't look good."

Bruce sat down on a chair before getting up and starting to pace across the waiting room floor. No one said anything while they waited for someone to come out from the back with news on Tim.

Eventually Dick moves from his space next to Stephanie and wrapped an arm around his fiancée. He kept Steph close though. Her tears had dried earlier, but she still looked downcast. Jason started to pick at the loose strings of the sofa, which in turn annoyed Alfred and Damian. Damian mainly because he would flick those strings at his head.

They were there for an hour more before the nurse that had first helped Barbara and Steph came back in with a clipboard in her hand.

"Barbara?"

Everyone's heads picked up and looked at the nurse. She looked a bit shocked at the amount of attention that she was now receiving.

"Tracy, this is my fiancé and the rest of his crew."

"Would it be correct to assume that one of you is Tim's father?"

"Adopted. But yes," Bruce said standing up. He wiped his palms on his pants and walked to her.

Tracy bit her lip. "Maybe you would like to come with me."

Everyone's eyes watched as she led Bruce away from the group. Barbara held onto Dick's hand tighter. She only hoped that whatever Tracy had to say wasn't as bad as she was thinking. Dick lifted her hand and kissed the back of it to reassure her. She wasn't quite sure that it worked.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Wayne, I'm terribly sorry about this. I can't imagine what it feels like."<p>

Bruce folded his arms across his chest and waited for whatever bombshell she had waiting for him.

"How is he?" Bruce asked.

"I'm sorry. But your boy's in bad shape. He practically crushed both of his lower legs when the bike landed on him. His hipbone was fractured on the right side and he suffered massive amounts of abrasions on his skin. Some ribs were fractured and he suffered internal bleeding."

Bruce closed his eyes and looked away. Tracy stopped talking.

"Would you like me to continue?"

There was more? Oh god. He nodded anyway. He needed to know what was wrong with his boy.

"We lost him three times. Once on the way to the hospital, and twice on the operating table. He's in a coma right now. We're not really sure how long he'll be under or even if he's going to wake up."

If Bruce were any other man, he would be on his knees.

"When can I take him home?" He pushed out.

"Excuse me? It would be the best for Tim if he stayed here in the hospital where staff can monitor his functions."

"I'm taking my son home with me. When is the soonest that we can make arrangements for him to come home?" Bruce looked at her with a steely look in his eye.

"That's not for me to decide. You would have to discuss that with his doctors. He's going to need to be heavily medicated for the duration of his healing process. It would be very expensive to maintain him in your home; you would need to hire a live-in nurse just to handle his daily needs."

"I don't care what the cost is."

There was a pause where there were no words said. Tracy stared down at her feet for a moment.

"He's being moved into room 254 for the time being. I assume that you would want to see him. He won't know your there, but it may help your family."

Just like that, she turned on her heel and left him alone with his thoughts. Slowly he walked back to the rest of his ragtag group. They looked at him expectantly. Hope and fear in their eyes.

"He made it through the surgery. But he's in a coma. They don't know if he'll wake up."

His family then saw the one thing that they thought was impossible in life.

Bruce cried.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So the consensus was that I should update more quickly. Good. I wanted to anyway.**


	15. Chapter 14

_ Healing yourself is connected with healing others. _

_~Yoko Ono_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Fourteen<span>**

Ra's was completely expecting the Detective to come bashing through the door at any moment. He had been since he had landed back home with Talia. One did not simply attack the Detective's family and not expect such a confrontation. He had received one after Jason had started his rampage in Gotham, and one after this was imminent.

He stepped out into his gardens. It had been a few weeks since Timothy was placed into a coma. He had his informants keeping him updated on his condition, but there had been no change, other than Timothy moving locations to his father's home.

Ra's admired the work that his gardeners had done. Each bloom was brightly colored and trimmed to perfection. He leaned down to sniff a rose. A dark shadow passed across his back. Such darkness shouldn't be in such a beautiful place.

"Detective? May I offer my sincerest condolences at the mishap for your son," he said standing back up.

"I don't accept."

Ra's held back a sigh and turned to face the Detective. The last time he'd been angry at what he'd done, but this time he was fuming.

"It is inconsiderate to decline someone's sympathy. I understand that you are in pain, but that does not mean you can be rude to a host."

"Talia almost killed two of my sons. Forgive me if I'm not too eager to please," he growled.

"Why do you come to me? It's my daughter that you are having a quarrel with."

The Detective tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Ra's.

"You're her father. I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to interfere with our discussions."

This time Ra's did sigh.

"Detective. I am as distraught about this situation about this as you are. My daughter went behind my back against my better wishes. I would not with dare to interfere between two lovers over children."

Bruce didn't say anything. He looked once around at Ra's garden and turned around. He walked out of the room, with no effort to disappear as he normally would have. Ra's partially wondered if the theatrical flair had gone out of him. He wondered if that was what happened when someone you love as your own blood was nearly ripped from your life violently with no meaning.

Ra's turned around and walked further down the path in the gardens. He would not get in between Talia and the Detective. Whatever they hashed out Ra's would stay out. But when it came to his grandson and his brothers, which was another story. Not a hair would be harmed on them. It would be that last thing he could give as a grandfather.

* * *

><p>Talia wasn't doing much in her room. Not since she'd been grounded. In a sense. A grown woman and her father had locked her in her wing of their compound. She leaned against the railing overlooking the vast open desert. The wind picked up her brown hair and flipped her hair across her face. She held on to a glass of wine. Well, an empty glass of wine.<p>

"Talia."

Against every training, instinct, and image she held herself to, Talia was startled. The wine glass slipped out of her hand and shattered upon the floor.

"Beloved." She turned around slowly.

"You killed my son."

Talia stood her ground. He was in one of his moods.

"As I recall, Timothy is only in a coma. Still very much breathing." She was pushing buttons and knew this quite well.

"With the assistance of a machine. Tell me Talia, what type of existence is that, eternal darkness, not yet dead, but not still living. It's not. He left us each personal messages in case something happened to him. But I wasn't referring to Tim. I was talking about Damian."

So this is what this encounter was about.

"And what of it? Timothy managed to resurrect him in my father's Lazarus pit. It seems that any business that you had with me is concluded." Talia turned to look back over the desert again.

Bruce gripped her arms and forced her to look at him. His eyes narrowed and they stared each other down for a tense few minutes. Then Bruce reached up and pulled back the mask to reveal the bright blue eyes that were shared by his son.

"Talia, if you come near my sons again," he growled.

"You'll kill me? Beloved, we both know that your moral code is too strong for such a thing to happen. You would die yourself before taking a life."

The eyes that looked at her weren't the cold eyes that were attributed to the Batman. Nor were they the eyes that the public saw while he was being the famous playboy of Gotham. These eyes were halfway in between. Determined, passionate, concerned. The look of a father willing to go to the ends of the earth for his children.

He truly loved every one of those boys. Even the girl. He would do anything for them even if no blood was shared in their veins. That's what separated him from the rest of the so called heroes. While they had their families, they were blood. Bruce had taken in those who the world had turned their backs upon and made them a home. They would be there for each other until the end of time for each other.

Tears filled her eyes. Her son had left her for a sense of belonging, of home. She couldn't be able to give that to Damian. She had tried, but her sights for his future had clouded the boy that he was. She did love her son. She did.

This was for the best.

Talia gripped Bruce's hands and took them off of her shoulders. She stepped back and looked out at the setting sun.

"Leave me."

"Talia." His voice was wary of this development. She could feel him reach out for her.

"Leave. Your sons will be untouched."

"Talia," he tried again.

"Don't make me tell you again. The guards will be coming soon. Go back home to your family and your city."

Her Beloved seemed to catch what she was saying. He gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

"He still loves you, you know."

And like that his hand was withdrawn and he was gone. Her guards came in a few seconds later. She let them alone to clean up the shattered glass on the floor.

Maybe someday he would forgive her for what she'd done. Maybe someday _she'd_ be able to forgive herself for what she'd done. But this was the best for her son. Maybe one day she could accept that.

* * *

><p>It had been two months since they moved him into his room in the manor with no change in Tim's condition. Not that bringing him home would magically wake him to be among the living again. But they hoped that the familiar environment would help with the healing process. But there was no improvement that could be seen.<p>

His eighteenth birthday came and gone. No one really celebrated. They all acknowledged the date, but no party was held. What was the point of a party when the guest of honor wasn't even aware that it was his birthday?

What ended up happening was they all took time out of their day and went up to his room to be with him on his day. No one knew the others were doing it, and yet they all knew.

Barbara went in and gave his a kiss on the forehead as his present. She talked about how she was cleaning through the Clock Tower and she found one of his portable games that he used to play. She laughed at the thought of him sneaking it behind Batman's back on patrols.

"We were happier then, weren't we?" She asked.

She left the game on his side table before leaving again to plan for various things. The Birds needed leadership and her wedding needed planning and try as Dick might, he was more of a hindrance than a help.

Dick came in some time after Barbara. He wore the dumbest party hat that he could find and came prepared with one for Tim. He tried to wrestle it onto Tim's head, but the oxygen tubes kept getting in the way, so he settled for resting it on Tim's head. He didn't talk much, which it itself was unusual for him, but was becoming more of a routine when he came to Tim. He moved the hat to Tim's dresser when he left.

Steph just sat and held his hand for an hour. She didn't say much either. "Happy Birthday Dork Wonder," she said before leaving.

Jason swung by and shoved a generic card in his underwear drawer and muttered a happy birthday.

Damian looked into the room and didn't even go in. His feet couldn't go in there.

Bruce and Alfred came in late at night and talked with him. They talked about what was going on in the world with the Justice League, and the Teen Titans. They talked about Wayne Enterprises and the upcoming deal that they were working one. They talked about the baseball game that they were planning on talking the entire family too without burning down the entire stadium. It was nearly the next day when they decided to get some sleep for themselves.

"Do you think he'll be awake for his next birthday, Alfred?" Bruce asked watching his son.

"It's hard to say sir. One can only hope and pray."

Then life went on.

* * *

><p>It was another month after Tim's birthday when Damian had had enough of being cooped in the manor. He demanded that he return to patrolling the streets.<p>

"No!" Was his father's answer. Every time.

Damian had had enough. He needed to out there again. And he was going to do something about it.

He waited for his father to go out on patrol for the evening before he snuck down and grabbed his robin costume out of storage.

The city's night air filled his lungs and he felt at home. The night air whipped through his hair, reminding him he needed a haircut. It was getting much too long. It was nearly as long as Jason's now and that wouldn't do. He had gotten rid of the white streak the moment that the bandage had come off of his head. He landed on a rooftop.

"Hey, you can't do that!" He heard someone shout.

He looked over at where the shouting was coming from. A bad guy was roughing up one of the regular prostitutes in the area and someone walking by decided that they were going to intervene. She was walking towards the two engaged in a tussle, fists clenched. She couldn't have been much older than him.

_What the hell is she doing? She's gonna get herself killed_, Damian thought to himself.

"Back off little girl if you know what's best for you."

The curly haired girl didn't stray from her path.

Damian didn't move until the mugger had turned his attention from the prostitute that had previously been holding his attention. The mugger swung a punch that she ducked under before giving her a kick to the stomach. Saving a prostitute was one thing, preventing innocents who didn't know when to keep their meddling hands out of other people's business is another thing.

Damian dropped down and swept his feet from underneath the guy. He landed with a hard thump on the ground and stared up at Robin. His mouth dropped.

"But you're dead. I saw it on the TV."

"You were mistaken." Damian gave a swift kick to the head and the guy was knocked out.

Damian hauled the guy to the emergency fire escape and cuffed him to it securely. He barely stepped back when he was given a hug from behind. He froze and looked to see the curly haired girl hugging him.

"What the hell?"

"You're not dead!" She exclaimed.

Damian had to bit his tongue. Didn't he just say that to the bad guy he took out? Was this girl dumb in the head or something? He pushed himself free from her embrace.

"What were you thinking? Are you stupid? You could have gotten yourself hurt," he scolded.

Her face changed quickly. That happiness that she was expressing changed to disbelief to anger quickly.

"I could've taken care of myself! And I'm not stupid! I thought that I could help that lady out! Do some good," she yelled back at him.

"Go home," he ordered.

She glared right into his face. Her nose scrunched up and the smallest portion of him thought it was cute. He squashed that thought.

"Home is where you should be also."

Damian froze. He had hoped that he wouldn't have run into his father. Slowly he turned around to face Batman.

"My presence would be better here on the streets than locked in the house as I have been for the past months," He said, trying to keep his voice from yelling.

"We will not be having this discussion right now. Go back to the cave. That's an order. We will discuss this later. Batgirl, make sure that the young lady gets home safely."

Damian whirled around to see the familiar purple suit standing next to the girl. He would need to start training harder if _Brown_ was able to sneak up on him so easily. He glanced back to his father to see that he wasn't there.

"Dammit," Damian muttered.

"Alright let's get you home Nell."

"You remembered." She gave a bright smile to Brown beside her.

Brown gave her a smile in return. "Let's get you home."

Nell nodded and looked back at Robin for a moment. She darted over quick and gave a small kiss on the cheek.

"Good luck with your dad," She said as she led Batgirl out onto the main street. Brown gave a small wave to Damian as she was led away.

Damian stood there for a moment before following his father's orders and returned to the cave. He was not surprised to see his father and Alfred looking down at him.

"What the HELL were you thinking Damian?!" Bruce yelled, pulling back his cowl.

Damian tried to bite his lip to prevent anything that would get him into a larger amount of trouble.

"I thought that I had told you that you were not going to go out as Robin again."

"Two hundred thirty two times," Damian muttered.

"What?"

"Two hundred thirty two times! That's how many times you've told me no! At first I thought that it was because you hadn't talked to my mother yet! But then you went and talked to her, something that I would have liked to be A PART OF, and I thought that maybe we could get back to some form of normalcy! But you still said no! I've been driving myself mad knowing that you are out there without me to watch your back! You don't understand that Batman needs ROBIN!" Damian yelled finally letting go of everything he'd been bottling up for a while.

When his lips stopped moving he stood still and stared. He listened to just what he said. Wasn't that what Drake had said when he first come to his father?

"It's not that simple Damian. The world saw Robin die. He can't just appear suddenly again."

Damian stood as tall as he could. He had grown a few inches in the past few months. They weren't sure if it was just a growth spurt, or the pit had some effect on his physiology. He was nearly as tall as Drake would be.

"Then you understand."

"Of course I understand. But you've been out of the field for months; you can't just go back out without reconditioning yourself. And I'm not saying yes. But can we just work on that before running around in tights again."

Damian scoffed. "They are not tights, Father. You know very well that they are not _tights_."

Bruce smiled inside. He wasn't okay with this. Not one bit. This was one of his baby boys. He needed to make sure that they were safe. But if he was going to sneak out again, then how was that going to keep him safe?

It was two weeks before Robin was standing by his side on the roof of the police station.

* * *

><p>Dick was sitting beside Tim's bed. He was dressed in a tux with a bright blue bow tie. The sun was beginning to set outside.<p>

"Hey buddy. So I got married today. Everything went well, at least no criminals attempted to take over the world anyway. Roy and Jason had some fun with the punch. That almost turned out badly. Wally took care of it quickly. But it was beautiful. Babs was beautiful. She walked to me Tim. I knew that she was receiving therapy on her spine and had regained some feeling in her legs. I guess I underestimated how much."

Dick stopped talking for a moment. He fingered his wedding band. A habit he was quickly picking up.

"I wish you could've been there buddy. We're still not whole without you here."

Dick stood up and left the room. He closed the door behind and leaned against it. He took a deep breath and allowed the tears he'd been holding back since that morning to roll down his face. He stayed in that position until his name was called.

"Dick?" Barbara rolled into view. The day had been long and physically exhausting for her. "Dick. I thought you'd be here. Are you ready?"

Finally Dick wiped his eyes.

"Yeah, I was just saying goodbye."

Babs snorted. "We'll be back in a few weeks Hunk Wonder. You can never stay away."

Dick gave a smile and began to push his wife, his _wife_, out to their car.

A pair of cool blue eyes watched the whole ordeal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So this chapter jumped a bunch of time. In the future I may write more in depth a few one-shots of things that happened over this period of time, but that would be for a future date. I hope that each little bit made sense, but especially the bit with Talia. **


	16. Chapter 15

_ Don't allow yourself to wake up with yesterday's issues troubling your mind. See every day as a new chapter._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter Fifteen<span>**

Damian was sweating. It took nearly all of his willpower to keep from screaming out. That was the third time that week that he had that particular nightmare. Last week it was his mother coming and killing his family in front of him. This week it was _himself_ that was killing them all.

The nightmares had started a while ago. The first one appeared when they moved Drake into his room. They were rare then. They started to increase after he was regularly patrolling again. Now he had a new one every week. But it always ended the same. With him surrounded by the blood and bodies of his brothers and father.

Titus lifted his head and rested it on the edge of his bed. He wasn't allowed up there usually, but since the nightmares started, he'd been creeping up to comfort his master.

Damian reached out and scratched his head.

"He's worried about you, you know."

Damian looked up to see his father standing at the door.

"Father! I-" He searched frantically for some excuse, any excuse.

"I am too. You haven't even gone inside Tim's room once since we got him back."

Damian frowned. "But we didn't get him back! We got a body that looks like his ugly mug! If it was him he would be annoying us all."

"You should go and talk to him. And I know that he won't answer," Bruce quickly added holding up his hand to silence Damian. "Maybe telling him what you're feeling could help you. He won't judge you."

Damian folded his arms across his chest and turned away from Bruce. The thought that the imbicile could help him was absurd.

Bruce inhaled through his nose deeply. He needed to let his son come to his own conclusions. Even if he didn't agree with them. So he leaned forward, placed his hand in his son's dark black hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"When you need me, you know where I'll be."

He rose from his son's bed and left him alone with his thoughts. He made it to the door and looked back at his youngest. If he looked closely he thought he could see a tear falling down Damian's face. Or perhaps he only imagined it.

Damian wouldn't admit that he wanted to go and talk to Drake. But he wasn't sure if he had the courage to go in there. So he stayed in that position for a while.

Before he realized just what he was doing, his feet were out of his bed and walking towards Drake's room. His feet padded silently along the carpet, and Titus' collar jingled as he followed his master.

"Stay Titus," Damian commanded once he got to Drake's door.

Titus sat and watched as his master disappeared behind the door.

Damian stared at Drake's sleeping body. He looked so peaceful, he probably wasn't experiencing the nightmares that Damian was. His legs weren't bandaged anymore. The bones had healed months ago. Everything broken had healed, but he still hadn't awoken.

Damian sat on the window seat.

"Father thinks I should talk to you. I think he's delusional. What's the point of talking to someone if they don't answer? Although I won't have to hear your dumb voice so that's a plus I guess."

Drake didn't remark back. Like he should have. Damian could feel anger building up inside of him. He jumped up and glared down at Drake.

"You're such a dumbass Drake! How dare you even think about doing this to me-our family! You failed to see your own worth! You made Gray-Richard cry on his wedding day. His wedding day! Brown ends up crying at least once a week when she visits, and she's an ugly crier. Although Todd's actually been rather civil since your accident."

"Why'd you do it? Maintain your course when you knew what result would come of it? I never asked you to help me. I didn't want your help. I don't understand why you would do it. You said we were brothers. Prove it."

Damian stared down at Drake's body. It did not change, except for his chest as the machine breathed in and out for him. His eyes remained closed. Damian's anger reached the point he couldn't contain it anymore.

"Dammit Drake!" He yelled, forgetting that it was the middle of the night. "You always manage to ruin everything! Even when you have good intentions you manage to screw everyone over!"

Hot tears welled up in Damian's eyes.

"I hate you! You're a selfish, self-sacrificial, arrogant asshole! How dare you leave us in this way!" His tears began to fall down his cheeks.

"I HATE you! Wake up! Wake up dammit!"

Damian felt large arms surround him from behind. He was lifted up and placed on someone's lap. Damian turned and buried his face into his father's chest. Bruce rubbed his youngest's back.

"Why won't he just wake up? It's been months since the accident. He should have woken up by now. He has to wake up soon."

"Damian. Comas are different than just being unconscious. It may take a while before he has the strength to wake up." Bruce looked over at his second youngest.

"But he has too. I have to kick his ass for putting m-_you_ through this," Damian said turning to glare at Tim.

"I miss him too, Damian."

Damian scoffed. "As if."

"It's alright to miss him Damian. Who else would you fight with when you've got nothing else to do?"

Damian wiped his eyes. He didn't cry. Crying was for babies and lower beings. But Drake had cried.

"I'm sorry," Damian murmured. "I'm sorry Tim."

Damian turned back into his father's chest. His eyes were still moist, but nothing fell over. Bruce rubbed the boy's back and lifted him up. He carried him out of Tim's bedroom back into his own. Titus stood from his position and followed his master back. Damian was half asleep as Bruce lay down his son on his bed. Bruce covered Damian with the blanket and left the room.

A small blip appeared on the electronic screen.

* * *

><p>Stephanie was painting her nails. Purple of course. She was nestled on the window seat, looking out at the changing leaves on the trees.<p>

"The leaves outside are beautiful, Timmy. It would be a lovely day for a walk on the grounds."

Tim didn't answer her. Steph didn't expect him to. She had gotten used to his silence over the past few months. She listened to birds as they began their flight south. She closed her polish bottle and blew on her nails.

"Ya'know, I was thinking the other day."

She looked over at Tim's face. Still peaceful. Still beautiful.

"I know that it's only been a few years, but I want to find my daughter. But the thing is, I want you to be by my side when I find her. You were there throughout my pregnancy and I want you to be there when I find her again. And I used to have this daydream. I kept my baby and you helped me raise her. I would come home and you would be playing with her on the floor. Somehow you whittled your way into her heart and became her daddy."

Stephanie left her spot and sat next to Tim on the bed. She held onto his hand.

"You'd be a great dad. I know you would." Steph laid next to Tim and wrapped his arm around her. "I miss our cuddles."

A small beep filled the air.

Steph looked towards her phone. No new messages. Odd. She rested her head down on Tim's shoulder like she used to when they were younger.

"We all miss you dork wonder. Even if some of us won't admit it." Steph began to tap her fingers on Tim's chest to a silent beat.

There were a few more beeps in the air.

Steph looked to the brainwave monitor incredulously. It couldn't be. The doctors said that chances of him waking up were slim to none.

"Timmy? Can you hear me?"

No voice answered her, the waves grew stronger.

Steph tried to reach her phone without moving from Tim's side. His family needed to know right away of this development. She couldn't reach.

"Of all the times for my Jedi powers to fail," She muttered.

She leapt off the bed, grabbed her phone and began dialing before lying down next to Tim again.

"DICK, it's happening!"

* * *

><p>Damian was greatly irritated. Father and Richard decided that it would be good to send him to school. In public. With other <em>children.<em> It was demeaning.

At least that's what he thought the first week or so.

This was much worse.

He was supposed to be giving a report on his family. Describing his relationships with each of them. He hated it. Most ways his relationships grew between him, his brothers, and his father was when there were masks on their faces. And that couldn't be discussed in a lowly school paper. Which means most of this paper was bull shit.

Damian tugged on his tie. Dumb uniform.

"When you're ready Mr. Wayne," his teacher prompted.

Damian held back a sneer.

"My family is different than most others. Most of us are not related to each other by blood. My three older brothers and older sister have all been adopted by my father. In addition, we have a butler who lives with us, who behaves as a grandfather would."

Damian really hated this assignment.

"My eldest brother's name is Richard. He seems to prefer being called Dick. Although I do not see the appeal of having people call you male genitalia that people us as an insult."

A few in his class chuckled. Damian didn't understand the humor. He continued with his dumb report.

"Recently he married his girlfriend. I was forced, along with my brother Jason, to be groomsmen. It was about time anyway, their googly eyes at each other when they thought no one was looking was quite bothersome."

"My next oldest brother is Jason. He has some anger issues and is in therapy. He hated me when I first met him, but he has mellowed out some."

"Cassandra is my only sister. She doesn't speak very often, which is alright with me, that is one less annoying voice for me to hear around the house. She travels quite a lot

"Timothy is closest in age to me. He is an idiot, yet he cares for us all in his own dumb way."

A commotion was heard outside. The students and teacher's eyes darted to the door. Damian stopped speaking. Yelling could be heard but words were unintelligible. The disturbance grew closer to their door. Damian's heart began to beat faster, ready to defend the other students.

"Mr. Wayne, this is a disturbance to the other students. We could've simply paged-"

The door to the classroom opened and multiple people filled in. The school's secretary, a slightly older woman began apologizing to the teacher. Bruce stood, still in his business attire, looking at his youngest. Dick stood behind him chattering rapidly into a phone. Even Jason stood there, looking fairly happy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Damian asked.

"Damian, its Tim." That was all Bruce said.

That was all that needed to be said. Papers slipped out of his hands and he stared at his ragtag family. It may have only been a few seconds, but it felt like hours as he and his father stared at each other. Finally his tongue of lead began to move.

"Is he-?"

Bruce nodded.

He wasn't excited. He _wasn't_. He didn't grab his backpack and nearly run out if the room. He _wasn't_ happy. And there was certainly _not_ a faint smile on his face.

He was lying.

"I didn't think you cared this much about Drake, brat," Jason smirked.

"Shut your face, or I'll cut your tongue out," Damian growled.

"Damian," Dick rebuked.

Damian bit his tongue, but didn't apologize. He continued his stroll towards the vehicle where Alfred would be waiting. He was going home. He needed to be there when Tim woke up. If only to put him back into a coma for dragging everyone through the mud for the last few months.

* * *

><p>He was lying on a cloud. At least he thought it was a cloud. It was soft, and comfortable, and his head was on something fluffy. He tried reaching out. He was wrapped around in something cool. The mist surrounding his mind slowly dissipated.<p>

Sheets. Those were sheets wrapped around him. Heaven had sheets? Or was this hell? He fought to open his eyes. Hell wouldn't have him in a bed. It _was_ a bed. Faint voices drifted to his ears. No words, just sounds. A deep bass hushed the tenor that had been speaking. A warmer tenor said something off to the other side. Then a soprano whispered near him.

Names. He fought for names. He knew them. He knew he knew them. He focused on the bass. B. B something. Brett. Bryan. Something with the brr sound in front.

"Bru-"

Bru. Bruce! His name was Bruce. Bruce was there.

He opened his eyes, slowly. It was bright. Much too bright. His eyes closed again.

"Tim? Can you hear me?"

Tim? His name was Tim. They were talking to him. He should answer the question. That was the polite thing to do.

He opened his eyes again. The lights were dimmer. It took a moment for his eyes to readjust, everything was a little blurry.

"Tim?"

Slowly he turned to the voice. It was a blonde figure. He watched as the image sharpened, with blue eyes, and a wide smile. Stephanie.

"St-Steph." He went to lick his lips, to find there was no saliva in his mouth.

"Figures, the first words out of his mouth are his girlfriend's," Someone, Jason muttered.

"Hush," Steph told him. "Tim, what's the last thing you remember?"

Tim looked behind Steph to Dick's face. He looked as happy as usual with a dash of relief. Tim's eyes scrolled across the room. Bruce stood at the edge of his bed looking the most relaxed he had ever seen him. A little behind him was Alfred, smiling happily as he was darning someone's socks. Jason stood leaning against his dresser with his trademark smirk.

"Damian. I told him to leave me behind. I don't remember after that." Tim's unused face muscles scrunched into a worried look. The longer he thought about it, the more he began to panic. He started to hyperventilate.

"Tim, relax. It's alright, Damian made it home safe." Bruce neglected to talk about the condition Damian came back in. What Tim didn't know, wouldn't hurt.

"Where, where is he?" Tim dragged himself to a sitting position. His bones ached from lack of use.

"Are you blind as well as ignorant?"

Damian stepped out from behind his father, arms folded. His eyes hid whatever feeling that he may be having, so Tim couldn't read him. As Damian walked closer, he wondered if he was going to be hit. That would be something that Damian after he had woke up after something he did that was stupid.

Damian went right up to Tim's face. His blue eyes stared into Tim's.

"If you think about ever doing that ever again Tim, I will personally make your life a living hell."

Before anyone could process that he had called him Tim to his face, Tim reached up and wrapped his arms around Damian. He then whispered so quietly that only Damian would hear.

"I love you too, brat."


	17. Chapter 16

_There's no other love like the love for a brother. There's no other love like the love from a brother. _

_~Terri Guillemets_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong> 

Tim was walking slowly around the gardens. There wasn't much to look at. It was late October and most of the plants had long since died. The evergreens still retained their green, but they were evergreens. Tim sat down on a bench nearby. His muscles were regaining their memory and strength back after months of motionlessness. But not as quickly as he would like.

It had been a month since he had woken up. He had been asleep for nearly five months. And during that time he had missed out on a lot of his family's lives. He missed Dick and Barbara's wedding. He heard that they were going to postpone it until Tim woke up, but the uncertainly of when that would be, drove that from their minds. He missed Damian's first day of school with other students. He missed Jason's Fourth of July fireworks display which ended in near disaster. He still didn't know the details of it, but apparently the police and firemen were involved. He missed his own eighteenth birthday.

Not that that last one really mattered to him. He probably would have forgotten it like the past few years.

Damian had been avoiding him since he woke up. Tim wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to see his face, or if when they did meet he just didn't know what to tell him. Tim felt conflicted about this. A part of him was happy that their relationship hadn't changed, but with less insults. But the other part of him was a little disappointed that their little ordeal hadn't changed their relationship.

But he wasn't going to press Damian any harder than what he was comfortable with.

It was hard. Getting back on his feet. He still lived at the manor. That was something that Alfred had insisted upon as he was still in physical therapy. Tim was more than happy to offer to move out and live on his own without being a burden to them anymore. They immediately insisted that he wasn't. So Tim stayed. But every day he still felt a bit burdensome.

He kicked a stone that was on the ground near him. It bounced along the grass and disappeared behind a stump.

And Steph. He had no idea what he had done to get such a girl. She was by his side nearly every day when he was under. He didn't understand why she was still there. He had hurt her and she came back. He still loved her, that hadn't changed. They told him that it was during one of her visits that he really began to wake up. As he once told himself, she was his link to sanity. She was his link to humanity. He firmly believed that.

"Would you wipe that dumb look off your face? Or will I have to tell Brown to do it?"

Tim looked over at Damian standing just beyond the trees, signature smirk on his face.

"How'd you know I was thinking about Steph?" he asked.

"Please, you and Richard are all the same. You both get that dumb look on your face when you are thinking about someone that you adore with blind passion. It is very annoying." Damian rolled his eyes.

"But how'd you know it was Stephanie?" Tim shifted in his seat.

"She looks the same way whenever she's thinking or talking about you. I should know. She wouldn't shut up about all the adventures you two had together when you were incapacitated."

Tim smiled. Yeah, that sounded like something she would do. He could just imagine her face now. Bright and happy.

"Ugh, you're doing it again." Damian sneered and rested his head on the tree trunk near him.

"Sorry. Sometimes I just can't help myself. But what about you? What brings you this far into the Hundred Acre Wood?" Tim smirked at his little joke. Dick and he had nicknamed it as such when they once got lost.

Damian rolled his eyes at Tim's comment.

"I thought that I would be able to take a walk without having to see anyone's ugly mugs for a bit. I was wrong." Damian turned and started walking away.

"Come on now. We both know that's a lie. You've wanted to talk to me for a while now. Come, sit." Tim patted the area of the bench next to him.

Damian watched him for a moment before sitting. There was an awkward, but not awkward silence that followed. Tim was watching the forest and listening to the birds that hadn't yet left for the winter.

Damian squirmed a little. There was a pressure there from the lack of pressure that Tim was inflicting. It had only been recently when Damian realized that he really didn't know anything about Tim. He didn't know any of his favorite things, but why would trivial matters matter to anyone. He didn't even know how Tim expressed his love towards others. He'd been watching for the past month, and every time he thought he figured it out, there would be something that to change.

"Stop thinking so hard Damian. You don't have to say anything if you don't want."

Damian looked at his older brother. Tim was unlike the others in so many ways. Dick would have pressed for information. Jason would have threatened it out him, or attempted to. Father expected it. Tim waited for him. Was this the same person who really put him on a hit list?

Tim saw Damian looking at him and gave him a small smile. It was easy, relaxed.

"How can you be so at ease? Father won't let you be out on the streets, and those who injured you are still out there," Damian asked.

"Perspective Damian. I'm still alive. You're still alive. They haven't, and won't be bothering us again." Tim looked up at the sky.

That wasn't the type of answer that Damian was really looking for. He wasn't sure just what he was looking for if he was going to be true to himself. He fell into silence for a bit longer. Tim didn't seem to mind. Damian opened his mouth again.

"Why did you say that you loved me? I tried to kill you, multiple times."

"Because I do." Tim finally looked at Damian's face. The look on Damian's face broke Tim's heart a little. Uncertainty. "There doesn't really need to be a reason. You're my little brother, don't question it. This type of love isn't something you can run from, or destroy. And rejecting someone's love doesn't mean that they still won't give it."

"But you should hate me. You almost died because of me."

Tim took a deep breath.

"And you died. How do you think that I felt? How Dick and Jason felt? How _Bruce_ felt? You're here now because Bruce couldn't move one. Because _I_ couldn't move on."

And there was the reason Damian had been searching for since he had found that it was Tim was the one to resurrect him. Damian watched as realization crossed Tim's face and Tim looked away. Tim had been hiding it from himself. Damian didn't understand what he was supposed to do now.

He punched Tim in the shoulder.

"Ow! Dude, what was that for?" Tim exclaimed rubbing his shoulder.

"That's for not moving on. You have your own life to live, as lowly as it may be," Damian scolded.

Tim smiled. His arm still stung a little, but the twerp had a lot of upper strength and he wasn't in the same shape as he had been in before. Quickly he wrapped his arm around Damian's throat and pressed his fist into his hair rubbing.

Damian could have broken free easily. It wouldn't have been very hard at all. A dislocated shoulder, a broken bone. But turnabout's fair play. He twisted his body, so he was behind Tim, wrapped his legs tightly around Tim's waist and rubbed hard against Tim's skull.

"Ah! I submit! You win!" Tim cried out.

Damian's vigorous rubbing ceased.

"Take me to the house," Damian commanded.

"What?"

"Take me to the house knave," he commanded again.

Tim obeyed, even when Damian's fingers gripped chunks of his hair tightly like reins. He wouldn't trade this moment for the world. A moment that he thought would never come in a million years. It almost seemed like they were a normal family for once. Without the attempted killing each other, and fighting crime. Tim winced when Damian's foot connected with his ribs.

"What!?"

"Faster. Your energy is not focused."

Tim took a deep breath and began to jog back up towards the manor.

* * *

><p>Dick didn't understand why Bruce needed him to be at the manor while he was gone. To stand in for Batman was something that was understood, that's what the specialized suit down in the cave was for. Dick guessed it was to watch over Tim and Damian, but they had been rather civil with each other since Tim had woken up. And if there was any type of trouble, Alfred was more than capable than handling it. He was the one to raise the Batman throughout his teenage years.<p>

"Hey, Jason, what do you think Bruce is doing?" Dick asked looking away from the fridge.

Jason came along, simply because he was bored. He had taken down the human trafficking ring that he had been after for months the previous week. Kory and Roy decided to spend the next week or so on vacation without work, leaving Jason behind in Gotham.

"Probably being talked at with facts at whatever meeting he's at. Or somehow keeping his cover. Either way, he's bored." Jason looked out the window at the pile of leaves that had been gathered together sometime in the past week.

"Yeah, I suppose. Those meetings of his were like some foreign language to me."

"Says the man who speaks a thousand different languages." Jason rolled his eyes.

"_Exaggeration_." Dick pulled his head out of the fridge. "Juice?"

Jason shook his head. A shout from outside attracted his attention. He looked out the window and snorted. This was just too good.

"Dickie, look at this."

Dick bounded over to the window. A wide smile spread across his face at the sight. Damian on top of Tim's back and both of them had a smile on their faces. Dick thought that he could die and go to heaven right then and there. He put his juice on the table and dragged Jason behind him as he ran outside.

"What the hell?"

Dick held a finger to his lips and crouched behind a bush. Jason crouched beside him. Tim and Damian neared their hiding spot and they could hear their laughter grow louder. Dick held up three fingers. Jason smirked.

Three. Two. One.

Together they jumped up and grabbed a brother. They lifted them onto their shoulders and quickly moved over to the leaf pile.

"Unhand me this instant! Richard!" Damian yelped.

"Jason! Put me down! C'mon!" Tim giggled.

Jason did. Into the leaf pile. Dick dropped Damian into the pile beside his brother. The pile swallowed the little boy and he clawed his way to be visible again. When his scowling face was seen again, both Jason and Dick leaped in beside their brothers, sending leaves up again.

They sat gently in the pile for a moment before the first act of war was initiated.

Tim chucked leaves into his brothers' faces.

Jason and Damian retaliated by grabbing him and shoving his head under the pile. Dick laughed at their antics, until Damian leapt and started to smother his face with leaves. Dick continued laughing. Tim was quick to wiggle out of his position and piled on top of Damian and Dick. Jason seeing his opportunity as the largest to sit on top of them all. There were instant protests from everyone underneath him.

"Jason, get off me!" Tim squeaked.

"Todd get your fat ass off of us!" Damian yelled.

"Jay! Jay! Get off!" Dick wheezed.

Jason stayed there for a moment before finally relenting and allowing everyone to breathe again. It took less than two seconds for everyone to leap on top of him.

* * *

><p>Alfred chuckled.<p>

"Oh no, Master Bruce. There's no need to worry. Everything's under control. The Birds of Prey have been coordinating rather efficiently with the young masters."

"How are they Alfred? Is Tim still keeping up with his physical therapy? Is Damian still ignoring him? Has Cass's plane landed yet from Hong Kong? Dick and Jason haven't eaten everything out of the fridge yet have they?"

Alfred smiled. "Calm down Master Bruce. You keep asking questions as such people might not buy the irresponsible playboy act that you give. They could see the truth."

"What?"

"That you're a devoted father. And there's no need to worry about your children. Everything is being handled. You may be surprised at what you might see when you come home in a few days."

Bruce didn't say anything over the line for a little while. Alfred could hear someone talking to Bruce and Bruce sighed.

"There is just no end to these meetings today. I can't wait to get to the hotel room and just sleep. And just make sure that no one burns down the house while I'm gone."

"Absolutely sir. I wouldn't dream of it."

Click. The phone call ended. Alfred set the phone down on the nearest table and picked up a camera. Bringing it up to his eye, he focused the camera on the action below in the yard. With a shutter click, a moment was frozen in time. Alfred smiled. That was going to be the new desktop on Master Bruce's computer.

Alfred set the camera down before heading down the stairs to go outside. As much as he enjoyed the fact that they were all getting along with each other and having fun, they were messing up his manicured lawn and someone was going to spend the rest of the evening making the lawn look exactly like the way that it had that morning.

The image of all four boys with smiling faces and leaves in their hair would become their favorite.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Now it's all over. And I am unashamed that this last chapter is fluffy. I like fluffy things. And I want to thank all of you who reviewed, followed, and favorite it. It really has meant a lot to me. Until next time!**


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